


Indelible Patterns

by UnluckyMagician (Zendelai)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Art art art, Bullying, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, Everyone's a hipster, F/M, Glasses kink, Mention of Hux/Kylo, Mention of Hux/Phasma, Mention of Kylux, Mention of Luke/Wedge, NYC, Nag Champa, Poe the pizza delivery guy, Previous Hux/Kylo, Recreational Drug Use, Reylo - Freeform, Slow Burn, Tags will change as story progresses, Tattoos, Undiagnosed Mental Health Issues, Yes I think it's time to add that tag, background stormpilot, everyone is bi, mention of previous self-harm, self-harm scars, where r the str8s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 63,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/UnluckyMagician
Summary: A talented, aspiring tattoo artist applies for her apprenticeship with a well-established realism tattooist.It does not go the way she expects.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a bit of a longer, slower fic than my last work. It's also going to be more dramatic and explore the boundaries of my writing skills with some dark and difficult topics; as such, I'll post content warnings and update tags when applicable to chapters. I really want to do everyone justice, so updates may be slightly slower. 
> 
> I have seen Last Jedi and will be carrying over some themes, so beware vaguely disguised spoilers.
> 
> I don't live in NYC and I'm not a tattoo artist myself, so if anyone reading this spots any glaring misconceptions, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> As always, I'd like to dedicate this to J, who constantly inspires me and helps me craft my Force Skype playlist.

The summer sun rose over the city in a sea of oranges, reds, and pinks; from the rooftop of her dumpy apartment in Jersey, Rey sketched the scene.

 

Capturing the architecture was easy: the skyscrapers, Central Park, the honking taxis. What she always found most difficult to capture with nought but pencil and paper was the bustle, the noise, how the city was always  _ alive _ .

 

But attempted she did, because what else was she supposed to do with herself at 5:30am on a Wednesday when she was as sleepless as the city she tried to emulate?

 

The repetitive and faint scratch of lead onto paper was followed by the brush of her fingertips, blending the skies. 

 

She would be down there, soon, amidst the business people in professional attire that clattered along concrete sidewalks. But for the moment she remained at a bird’s eye view, trying to think of anything,  _ anything _ , but what she was going to attempt today.

 

Regardless of how anxious she was about what was to come, her hand remained steady as she worked. It was one of the many reasons she felt she was destined to do this job, like every battle and hardship she had faced in her life lead her to this opportunity. 

 

When the sun fully took over the sky, she removed her cardigan, allowing the warmth to encapsulate her well-tattooed arms. She placed her sketch aside and pulled a jelly sandwich out of her book bag, munching on it while she observed crawling traffic. 

 

When 9am hit she stood, stretching her stiff legs, and walked to the door that lead downstairs, kicking her makeshift doorjam out of the way so the door slammed shut behind her. Plunged into darkness, she followed her cellphone flashlight until she reached her floor, following the carpet that had gone out of style in the 80s until she reached her apartment, number 1201.

 

Walking on tiptoes as to not wake Finn, she went into the bathroom and started a shower so hot it turned her skin red. In an attempt to look less like her usually messy self, she washed her hair and shaved her legs and armpits, feeling positively squeaky clean by the time she got out. Not wanting the hair dryer to wake Finn, she opted to pull half her hair up into a ponytail, letting the rest air dry against her shoulders, and she put on a light layer of makeup so she looked older than the nineteen-year-old that she was. Still wrapped in a towel, she left the room to pass down the white-walled apartment hallway, a few mismatched sketches done by either her or Finn dotting the walls. 

 

Her room was an absolute mess, clothes covering every inch of the laminate flooring with a sweater covering the only lamp in the room. Her bed -- well, a mattress on the floor, actually -- was unmade and the sheets were stiff it had been so long since she had washed them. From the few clean clothes in the closet she pulled out a long, loose-fitting black tank, tucking it into a pair of skinny black jeans. Feeling especially bold, she swiped on a layer of a matte red lipstick and stuffed her feet into lowtop black and white Chucks before swinging her already packed book bag over her shoulder and making her way out the door.

 

The moment she stepped outside again the sun was bright in her eyes, so she slid on a pair of aviator sunglasses that she was almost entirely certain were Finn’s. It was a half an hour walk to the subway, but she kept her pace brisk and listened to a murder mystery podcast while she walked and subsequently rode the subway into New York City, right into midtown. 

 

She opted to exit at Grand Central, taking in the high ceilings and the intricate stonework before she exited onto the street, immediately getting almost run over by a wayward taxi. Focusing on her breathing and the soothing woman’s voice in her ear, she kept her anxiety at bay while she walked the rest of the six blocks to her destination.

 

The shop was so small she almost missed it. The awning above the door was black, with no writing other than the initials “FOT” in block white lettering. The windows were tinted lightly, and even though she couldn’t capture their features she could still spot the artists inside milling around. 

 

She was really going to do this. She was really going to apply for an apprenticeship at the legendary First Order Tattoo, one of the most prestigious and revered shops in the city. For all of the artists in the shop, appointments needed to be made at least a year in advance; but most importantly, Kylo Ren worked there. Kylo Ren, who had tattooed countless celebrities, and who was one of the most talented realism tattooists in the world. 

 

And if she did this right, she might get to learn from him.

 

This was a cold call, one of the most dreaded and necessary aspects of an apprentice’s journey. She hadn’t completely lost her mind, though; they had posted the opening on their Instagram just the day before, and she knew that even if she failed she couldn’t miss the opportunity.

 

“I can do this, I can do this,” she encouraged herself out loud, earning her a sidelong glance from a passing tourist with a camera around his neck. Taking in a deep breath to tame the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she opened the door.

 

Immediately she was greeted with the sounds that trademarked a tattoo shop: the buzzing of guns at work, some obscure metal band playing over the radio, the nervous laughter of a client consulting with an artist. She had to steady herself when her gaze fell on the reception desk and Kylo himself was seated behind it, his head bent down and his shoulders slumped as he worked on a sketch. She never would have thought that he’d be the type of artist to sit at reception; she had assumed she wouldn’t meet him unless she got the job, as the pictures he posted were always in the confines of his private room in the shop. 

 

Even though she had seen many pictures of him online, often grinning and arm-in-arm with one tattooed celebrity or another, in person he was nothing like she expected. His long hair was pulled back and tucked inside a black beanie, his prominent ears sticking out the sides. She fought back a maddening impulse to reach out and run her fingers along the shell. Beneath his long, angular nose he had full, pouty lips, painted into the faintest of frowns in concentration. He was pale, likely from spending too much time in the shop, and she could have painted a constellation between the moles and freckles that dotted his skin. From her vantage point she could only see his torso, dressed in a simple and unadorned black t-shirt. The arms that protruded were long and well-shaped, covered in a pattern of black & grey tattoos. 

 

Gathering up all the confidence that she could muster, she placed her sunglasses atop her hair and said to him, “I’m here to apply for the apprenticeship opening.”

 

His dark eyes slowly peeled upwards from his work until they met hers, the faint frown never leaving his face. Without speaking his gaze bored into her, filled with no small amount of animosity in what she took as an attempt to intimidate her. Rey was small but she would not be intimidated and she held her chest out, waiting for him to break their gazes. 

 

Seeming satisfied, he nodded slowly. “Let’s see your portfolio, then.”

 

From her book bag she pulled out her revered portfolio, her life’s work contained within its pages, and placed it on the desk before him. As an apprentice it only contained sketches; she wouldn’t be able to work on living canvases or even have access to pig’s skin until a shop took her under their wing. It was what made breaking into the industry so difficult.

 

Kylo gave a cursory glance to the first three sketches before closing the book, sliding it across the desk back towards her.

 

“No.”

 

One word, no explanation. Her heart sank into her stomach and she had to force back the wild urge to cry. Side-by-side with her sadness came anger, roiling in her chest where her heart once resided.

 

“You didn’t even look at my portfolio,” she snapped.

 

“I saw enough.” He was no longer meeting her gaze, turning to the computer to perform a seemingly menial task. 

 

She took a step closer to him, trying to force him to see her. “I’m talented, and I work hard. I’ll come in early every day and stay late. I’ll clean all the stations, I’ll fill all the ink, I’ll order all the needles, I’ll mop all the floors, I’ll clean the toilets, I --”

 

When his gaze finally flickered up to hers, his lips were pursed. “So you’ll do what every apprentice does, except they have more talent?” Sighing and gathering his papers, he stood. She was shocked at how tall he was, towering over her, his chest becoming broad as he pulled his shoulders back. “Excuse me, I have a client waiting.”

 

He turned his back to her, leaving her standing alone, teary-eyed and mouth agape in his wake. Evidently used to his manner, the other artists in the shop paid her no mind, keeping their focus on their own work.

 

When the door slammed behind him, she knew there was nothing more she could do. She turned on her heel and left, blaming the stinging in her eyes on the bright sunlight. She pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes, hiding her shameful tears.

 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, more than she was already. She wanted to punch a brick wall, make herself bleed, unleash her anger and frustration at the sheer unfairness of her situation on the world.

 

But she couldn’t. And she wouldn’t. No, if she did, Kylo would win, and she’d disappoint herself, losing twice over. 

 

In many ways, Rey was a failure. She had difficulty keeping her emotions and her stress in check, she was a whirlwind and a mess wherever she went, she was an orphan, she was a terrible cook, and she was allergic to peanuts. When she had been crafted by whatever deity existed, they had missed many essential pieces when they were putting her together. 

 

In spite of all of this, she was talented, and she knew it. She could draw, she could paint, and given the tools, she could tattoo.

 

And she  _ would  _ tattoo. She would  _ not  _ let First Order Tattoo -- and Kylo Ren -- win. 

 

She pulled out her phone and began to draft a list of the other tattoo shops in the city that she wanted to work with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Recreational drug use

Sopping wet from the sudden thunderstorm and feeling utterly defeated, Rey collapsed face forward onto her couch, letting out a long and dramatic groan. 

 

“Hey, Peanut.” Finn’s voice beside her was gentle, and she heard the click of him turning off the TV and the groan of the floor beneath his feet as he stood. He took his place crouching beside her, resting his palm between her shoulder blades. “Bad day?”

 

Her voice was muffled when she muttered, “Yes.” 

 

It  _ had  _ been bad. Awful, actually. The past three weeks since her rejection at First Order Tattoo had all been terrible as she went into shop after shop after shop, rejected at each one. Some were polite enough to say they didn’t have space for an apprentice, but she should keep trying, she was talented; others were less polite, sticking with a simple “no”. 

 

She was accustomed to the word no. She had heard it from her uncaring foster parents when she asked for even the simplest things, she had heard it from men and women she was interested in who found her unattractive or strange, she had heard it from all of the art schools that she had applied to, she had heard it from almost all the menial jobs she had applied to so that she could move out on her own, and now she was hearing it from shop after shop. 

 

First, she had covered all of the reputable shops in Manhattan. Once those were exhausted, she tried Brooklyn, and then Queens. She only had two more shops in Queens to see, and if those failed, she would have to start trying the Bronx and then Long Island. Subway fare between shops was growing too expensive, so she had taken to walking miles daily and her feet ached. 

 

Turning her head so it was her cheek pressed against the couch cushion, she met Finn’s warm gaze. “Am I cut out for this?”

 

Finn pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips dry. “I  _ know _ you are. The right shop just hasn’t found you yet.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to working at Unkar’s. It was awful.”

 

“You won’t have to, Peanut. You can come work with me if you want to. It’ll be reception or cleaning, but it’s better than Unkar’s.” 

 

The faintest of smiles ghosted across her lips. “You’re too good to me.”

 

He smiled back. “I know. Would a pizza cheer you up?”

 

Rey rolled over and flopped onto her back. Her jeans were stuck to her legs and her feet were starting to grow cold, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to leave the couch. “I’m sick of pizza. Can we get Indian?”

 

“I had Indian for lunch.”

 

“Thai? We can check out that new place across the street, Rose told me it’s excellent.”

 

“I’m not in the mood for something spicy. I really want pizza.”

 

Rey’s eyes rolled back in her head. “Fine, as long as it’s not Papa John’s.”

 

“I like Papa John’s.” Finn gazed down at her with the most puppy-eyed expression he could muster.

 

“We’re in bloody New York, surrounded by incredible pizza places, and you want Papa John’s. I know it’s just because the delivery guy is cute. Don’t lie to me, Finn.”

 

“I’ll buy.” Finn looked so hopeful that she couldn’t let him down; with a wave of her hand she acquiesced. 

 

“Fine. But no bloody pineapple!”

 

“I’ll call it in. Take a shower, you smell like a wet cat.”

 

“And you smell like a high school locker room, lay off the Axe.”

 

They jibed at each other but they both knew that they meant well. Besides, Rey knew that he was right: her wet clothes were terribly uncomfortable and she had been pounding the streets of Queens in the heat all day. With a sigh she hoisted herself up off the couch, dragging herself into the shower. At first she had the urge to sit on the porcelain floor of the tub, crying until her eyes run dry, but she compromised with herself in the end, standing until the hot water ran out.

 

How badly she wished that wanting something enough could make it so. She was meant to be an artist, she knew it in the depths of her heart. Art had helped her survive being bounced around the foster care system and being bullied at school for being a withdrawn orphan. She got her first tattoo when she was fifteen in a senior student’s basement, a stick and poke of a star in printer ink on her hip, paid for with the funds from her paper route and soda can collection. Even though the tattoo was hideous, she was in love. When she finally graduated high school, she had immediately taken a job at Unkar’s junk yard and moved out on her own. Every penny that wasn’t put towards rent, the occasional tattoo, or food -- which too often consisted of ramen noodles in styrofoam cups or boxes of mac and cheese -- went into her savings so she could quit and pursue her dream of becoming a tattoo artist, of leaving her art legacy on living, breathing, moving canvasses. 

 

And if she didn’t get an apprenticeship soon, she’d have burned through her savings and she’d be right back at a menial job, the past two years for nothing.

 

When she finally shut off the shower water, she heard voices drifting from outside the door. One was Finn’s, and the other’s she vaguely recognized as the pizza delivery driver that Finn denied fawning over. She pressed her ear to the door instead of exiting the bathroom, not wanting to interrupt them (and also, secretly, not wanting to exit the hot sauna she created).

 

“Is that Rainbow Six Siege?” The driver asked Finn. “I love that game!”

 

“Uhh -- yeah! It is.” Finn sounded nervous, which was an unexpected look for him, and Rey smiled faintly. “I’m not great at it, I’m just practicing some t-hunt.”

 

“I can play a mean Thermite, you know.”

 

“You must win a lot of games, then.” 

 

The driver laughed, a rich and warm sound that filled the room. Rey could see why Finn was drawn to him: he had a certain charm, even in just his voice. “You know what they say, no one likes to play Thermite, but you have to if you want to win.

 

“Hey, listen --” He paused, and Rey thought she could hear rustling and then scribbling. “You’re on Playstation, right? This is my username, add me and we’ll play some time. And, my name’s Poe.”

 

Rey could almost feel Finn’s blush through the door. “I’m Finn, but look out for FN2187.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Finn.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Poe.”

 

“Enjoy your pizza.”

 

Holding her towel up around her chest, Rey emerged when she heard the door thunk closed, followed by the thump of Finn’s back to it. Even though the air conditioning unit was pumping out cool air, he had a fine sheen of sweat across his forehead.

 

“Are you in love?” she asked teasingly as she passed him on the way to her bedroom.

 

Finn’s response was gentle as he muttered, “Oh, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

 

The boy -- and he could be no older than a boy judging by the sparse hairs that constituted as a moustache -- looked completely offended as he spun on his heel and marched out of the shop like a wounded pup.

 

“That one wasn’t bad, you know. You should consider giving  _ one  _ an interview.”

 

Kylo closed his eyes to tamp the sharp retort that bubbled to his lips. Hux knew nothing of the hiring process, a task which Snoke had assigned specifically to Kylo and only Kylo. Hux possessed the talent that Snoke desired, but lacked the distinguished eye that Snoke needed. 

 

As clear as day, Kylo recalled his meeting with Snoke regarding the hire. It had been within the confines of Kylo’s private room, on a Thursday morning when the shop was otherwise empty.

 

“We only accept the best at First Order Tattoo,” Snoke had said. “Hux, Phasma, and you. I sought each of you out personally to invite you to the team. We will not let one weak link break our chain. I want to expand and grow, but only with the best in the city.” He had leaned forward in his chair and vehemently insisted, “ _ Don’t _ bring me anything but the best.”

 

So Kylo had opted to hire no one. It was better than putting his ass on the line, trusting an inexperienced apprentice, and Snoke would eventually give up and find someone himself that he deemed to be suitable.

 

He was well aware of Snoke’s standards, and the skill of the current staff. To be perfectly immodest, Kylo was one of the best tattoo artists in the world, and he was unparalleled in colour realism and portraits. The average client waited three years to be tattooed by him, but he always made space for his celebrity clientele. It was good advertising for him, anyways. 

 

His coworkers weren’t quite at his level, but they were both skilled in their own ways. Hux was a specialist in black and grey, and had a soft spot for animal portraits and geometric work. Phasma preferred a more abstract style, with vivid watercolours and bright brush strokes that managed to look like both everything a person knew and at the same time nothing at all. 

 

Between their three skills, they kept the shop constantly busy, their books and wait lists almost always full. Some tattoo enthusiasts would stop by just to flip through their physical portfolios, see what flash art was dotting the walls, or even try to spot the newest celebrity that Kylo was working on. As if they would ever catch a glimpse -- Kylo had a private back entrance for high-profile clients. 

 

That afternoon was spent working on a large multi-session leg piece with a regular client. She had been coming to Kylo for years and kept a steady stream of chatter going while he worked, while he let out the appropriate “mm-hms” and “yeahs” whenever she stopped to breathe. 

 

When he was getting closed to being finished for the session, he caught one question that was directed at him.

 

“Handsome man like you, you must have a nice girlfriend at home.”

 

He paused, lifting the gun off her leg, his foot drifting off of the pedal. 

 

“Or boyfriend,” she quickly corrected. “Or partner. Oh, God, I’m so embarrassing.”

 

“You’re not,” Kylo assured her before resuming his work. “But no, no one at home.”

 

She was quiet after that.

 

When Kylo had finished her session, he cashed her out, cleaned his station, and went home early. 

 

His condo was nestled in midtown east, a walkable distance from the shop, and he kept his head down and his hands stuffed in his pockets while he walked. Even in the zoo of people that composed the city of New York, he always caught wayward glances drifting towards him, taking in his stature and his tattoos. He always felt on display when walking through the streets, even though he blended in better in New York than in most places. 

 

His doorman greeted him with a “good evening, sir” when he arrived at the condo, and Kylo sent him a cursory nod before entering the elevator and riding it up to the 20th floor. 

 

The condo was east-facing, overlooking the East River and Queens, so it was dark when he entered and flicked on the lights. It was an open concept unit, the foyer opening up into the living room with the kitchen to the left and the bedroom and bathroom down the hallway to his right. The living room was painted a deep red, a stark contrast to the eggshell couch facing away from the foyer, his TV tucked into the corner. He had kept the kitchen and bathroom white and painted the bedroom slate grey. Kylo wasn’t much of an interior designer so he kept his furnishings simple, a few metalwork pieces and his own paintings dotting the walls. The condo was tidy due to his recent konmari kick, but it was in desperate need of a deep clean that he kept putting off.

 

He dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and locked up behind himself, kicking his shoes off and collapsing onto the couch in his living room with a long sigh. 

 

At first, he debated between ordering in Greek food or yet another meal of corn dogs, but both sounded completely unappetizing. What he really wanted was to go to his favourite Korean BBQ joint and have a real meal, but going alone was as unappetizing as the corn dogs. 

 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he began to sift through his contacts. Hux and Phasma were still working, so that wasn’t an option. He wasn’t desperate enough to call up his mother out of the blue and invite her out for dinner. 

 

He opened up his Tinder app, swiped left a few times, and then turned off his phone screen with a grunt, placing it on his chest.

 

He wasn’t  _ that  _ desperate. Not yet at least. But… 

 

He closed his eyes. He imagined the shop, he imagined his beautiful condo, he imagined his art, he imagined the incredible people he was able to work with daily. 

 

It was everything he could have ever dreamed of, and it felt empty and hollow because he had no one to share it with.

 

It was a privileged point of view, he knew. He had no shortage of money and he was doing a job that he loved, which was more than anyone had a right to ask for. Putting off his food decision, he sat up, pulled a tray out from under his coffee table, and began to roll a joint for himself. 

 

He was also twenty-nine and unmarried, with nothing more than a few one-night stands to satiate his loneliness. No one seemed capable of standing him for longer than that, or those who did stand him were liars who wanted him for his fame. 

 

So every night he came home, alone. Ate alone. Showered alone. Went to bed alone and woke up alone.

 

He smoked his joint (alone), feeling less maudlin and more hungry once he was high. 

 

Feeling resigned to his solitude, he called the Korean place and booked a table for one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference to Kylo's tattooing style, check out Nikko Hurtado or Steve Butcher (you can find them both on Instagram).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Bullying, slurs.

Watching Rey go out the door for yet another day of cold calls was like watching his kid go off to class when they were being bullied.

 

Finn could just feel the defeat radiating off of her in waves. He collapsed into the chair in front of the tv, running his hand along his cropped hair. 

 

If Rey was stuck, truly stuck, there was a job for her at his office. But he knew she would hate every moment of it, because that was just what Rey was like. She was never one to fit into the cookie-cutter lifestyle of working an 8 to 5 at a desk, she was far too restless for that. She’d honestly be terrible at it anyways, she couldn’t even remember to bring home milk when she finished it in the morning, but it would ensure that she wouldn’t end up at Unkar’s again. It would make him look bad to refer a bad employee, but he didn’t care.

 

Rey was his best friend and he would do anything for her, just as she had done for him.

 

It had been almost three years since they had met, but in that short time they had developed a closer friendship than he had with anyone else. 

 

He recalled the day so clearly.

 

In some ways Finn’s childhood had been privileged, and it many ways it wasn’t. He never met his birth parents, who had arranged adoption for him with a middle-class white family when he was still in the womb. They had cared for Finn, loved him deeply and gave him everything a child could ask for. But their love couldn’t protect him from other students, and being a gay black orphan made him a prime target in high school. He was beaten, bruised, and verbally abused. He had no friends and ate lunch alone daily.

 

When his senior year started, he had hope at first that this year would be different. The students around him were aging and growing more liberal, starting to learn about marginalized groups and the injustices they suffered.

 

Finn was wrong.

 

He approached his locker to grab his lunch and saw the word “QUEER” scrawled in bold lettering written across the door. 

 

“Like my art?” A malicious voice resounded from behind him, one of the bullies who had pestered him ceaselessly for years. Finn’s fists clenched but he didn’t fight, would never fight. His father had always taught him that fighting wasn’t the way. 

 

But the boy wouldn’t let Finn be. “I’m talking to you, queermo.” The breath left Finn’s lungs when he was pushed against the locker, hard. 

 

Before things could get worse for Finn, a new voice appeared from down the hall. “Hey! Leave him alone!” 

 

“I’d ask if she’s your girlfriend,” the boy sneered in Finn’s ear, “but we all know that can’t be the case.”

 

“I said leave him alone!”

 

“Piss off, new girl. This isn’t your business.”

 

After that, everything was a bit of a blur. All he knew was that this girl, this savior, could fight, and she pinned the boy’s arm behind his back and twisted until he begged her to let him go. “You alright?” she had asked Finn, and he nodded while she brushed dirt off the front of his sweater. 

 

“Thank you,” he muttered thickly.

 

“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “I’ve had my fair share of trouble for the same thing, I know how it is.”

 

“You’re gay?”

 

“Bi,” she corrected gently. “I’m Rey, by the way. What’s your name?”

 

“Finn.”

 

And after that… while, they were inseparable. They were apart for awhile when Rey was finishing high school and Finn was getting his certificate in graphic design, but when Rey told him she wanted to move out on her own, they found an apartment together.

 

But now, he was watching her put herself out on display and be rejected, over and over again for it. He knew it was the way of the industry, he knew it was the way of art, but it broke his heart nonetheless. 

 

There was nothing that he could do, though. It was her dream and she had to chase it. 

 

He turned on his tv and Playstation, smiling when he spotted that  _ rebelpilot _ was online and had sent him a party invite.

 

Poe’s voice resonated through his headset. “Ready to kick some ass?” 

 

“You know it.”

 

* * *

 

Gazing upwards, Rey stood outside the tiny and indescript shop, a true definition of hole-in-the-wall. It was nestled in Fordham Heights in the Bronx, within spitting distance of the zoo. The only signage was printing on the door itself, which read “Resistance Tattoos”, and the s was peeling off the glass. 

 

When she stepped in, her soles slapping against the linoleum floor, she was greeted by the sweet sound of Black Sabbath playing over the speakers. It smelled strongly of Nag Champa and faintly of weed, but the scent didn’t match the clinically clean appearance: there wasn't a speck of dust on the floor or at the reception desk. The main work area only had three chairs and a closed door in the back. The walls mostly displayed vintage concert posters for acts like Grateful Dead and the Guess Who, but in between those she spotted stunning paintings and pencil sketches, varying in style from realism to abstract. Feeling suddenly self-conscious about her own skills, she clutched the strap of her book bag tighter to her chest.

 

This place was a bit of an urban legend to Rey, and it was apparently the current operating base of one of the greatest tattoo artists of all time, a true master of traditional styling, Luke Skywalker. She knew her chances here were more slim than anywhere else, but at this point, really, what did she have to lose?

 

The back door swung open, and a man appeared. It had to be Luke himself. He was older, in his late 50s or early 60s if she had to guess, with shaggy grey hair and a matching grey beard that looked in desperate need of a trim. He was wearing the sort of ensemble that would have fit in perfectly at Woodstock: a grey wool poncho over cargo shorts and frayed Birkenstocks covered his feet. The small amount of skin that was showing was covered in traditional tattoos that she would have expected to see on a sailor, swallows and stars and anchors. When he spotted her at the door he stopped, peering at her with analytical blue eyes that held wisdom far beyond his years. He reminded her very much of an old lion.

 

“You’re not here for a tattoo,” he said, approaching her with tentative steps. His voice was… soothing and a bit soft. Almost familiar, like she had heard it in her childhood, even though she was certain she didn’t know him. In spite of that, she still had a feeling that he could have a commanding presence to him if needed.

 

“I’m not,” she said. She knew that she should be nervous, but she wasn’t. No, she felt perfectly comfortable, even beneath his calculating gaze.

 

He was directly across from her now, only a desk separating them. “Then why are you here?”

 

Without breaking his gaze, from her book bag she pulled out her portfolio, slowly passing it to him. Gently he took it from her, sinking into the high chair in front of the desk. He began to flip through the pages, taking his time and analyzing each picture. He would squint and pull some of the pages closer to his eyes, staring at a few of her drawings for almost five minutes. 

 

No one had reviewed her work with such intense scrutiny before. It made her apprehensive. 

 

When he reached the back page, he shut the book firmly, placed it down on the desk, turned around, and walked out the back door.

 

“What --” Rey sputtered. Was he dismissing her? It had taken him over half an hour to leaf through her portfolio, so he had to at least be considering her. But he was old-fashioned, and the shop was quiet, so maybe it had been his afternoon entertainment?

 

Before she could muse any further, he emerged from the back room, clutching a grapefruit. Feeling thoroughly confused, she accepted it when he passed it to her.

 

“That --” Luke pointed to the grapefruit that she was clutching against her chest, “is going to be your first canvas. Show me what you’ve got.”

 

So… he was considering her? Her heart hammered in her ears at the thought. 

 

“I --” her ears went pink. “I’ve never even held a tattoo gun before.”

 

“Have you held a pencil? A pen? A paintbrush?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He began to walk towards the rearmost chair, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Don’t think of it as a gun. Think of it as a pen that buzzes. Here.” He passed her the gun, and pointed to the pedal at her foot that actuated it. 

 

Rey held down the foot pedal, and jumped in her seat when the gun in her hand moved and buzzed loudly. Luke let out a bark of a laugh.

 

“That’s an old gun,” he told her, “the new ones are quieter. Now, I want you to tattoo that grapefruit.”

 

Looking up at Luke, Rey asked, “What do I tattoo?”

 

He smiled at her softly and asked, “What does your heart tell you to?”

 

For an hour, she stared at the surface of the fruit, contemplating what the hell she could tattoo that would impress him. At first she considered what she thought Luke would like, before realizing that he was the type of person who would want her art to be what  _ she  _ wanted, not what he wanted. She then thought of all her favourite drawings and paintings that she did, but nothing felt quite right.

 

While she pondered, an older client came in and Luke tattooed a swallow on his wrist. She wanted to see him work but she didn’t want to impose, so she watched from a distance instead. Luke got so close to the gun that small bits of ink splashed onto his nose while he worked, dotting it with spots of black and red, and he smiled and laughed the whole way. He was very… chatty, if she was being frank, for there was no better word for it. Rey imagined that it helped distract the client from the pain, and she made note of conversation topics that Luke utilized to keep the man busy. Why he was getting the tattoo, where he worked, what he drove, what part of the city he lived in, the best bagel place in the area. 

 

Then it struck her, and she got to work.

 

It was an odd sensation, tattooing a fruit. She jumped again the first time that she touched the gun to it and watched the ink spread onto the bumpy surface. On one side she simply tested to learn the ink’s patterns, drawing thin and thick lines before switching to the shading needles. When she felt more confident in her understanding of the needles’ uses, she flipped the grapefruit and got to work. As per Luke’s instructions she didn’t bother with a stencil, didn’t even know how to make one yet, and just used a marker to sketch out the most basic of linework. 

 

When she began to flesh out the piece, it felt marvelous. It was a piece of fruit, yes, but she was  _ tattooing _ . She was bringing to life an idea on fruit’s flesh, and each line that she did was permanent. When she drew she could erase her mistakes, but with tattooing there was no going back. Before each line she took a deep breath and went in with a steady hand, her eyes quickly growing tired from focus.

 

The small piece, strictly black and grey, took her almost two hours, but she felt an intense satisfaction from taking her time when she sat back and reviewed it. She was happy with it, and she hoped he was too. 

 

Luke was seated at the reception desk sketching what looked like a stencil for a client when she plopped the fruit down on the table before him, tattoo facing up.

 

“A lion?” he asked gently. 

 

“You remind me of a lion,” she responded. Her traditional would never hold a candle to his so she went for more of a neo-traditional style, embracing bold lines but adding in a touch of realism and soft shading, especially in the mane.

 

He looked at it for so long, his expression completely devoid of emotion, that she thought that she had made a horrible mistake. Just when she was about to speak, he burst out laughing, a broad grin lighting up his features and making him look years younger. 

 

When the laughter stopped, he wiped tears from his eyes. “Normally I wouldn’t take on an apprentice,” he told her, and her heart sank. “But you interest me. You have skill, but you have something else, too. I want to find it, and I want to unleash it on the world.”

 

Rey’s heart soared in her chest, a hummingbird’s wings against her ribcage. 

 

Luke Skywalker --  _ the  _ Luke Skywalker -- was taking her on. 

 

“I won’t let you down,” she told him in hushed whispers.

 

“I know,” he said. “You’ll be in here with me, every day from noon to six, later if I ask you to. You’ll be keeping this place spotless and fully stocked. I’ll pay you minimum wage until you’re ready to start taking on clients. Come back tomorrow and I’ll have the paperwork drafted.”

 

Feeling elated, Rey had to resist either sprinting or skipping to the subway. She couldn’t wait to tell Finn the news. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special thanks to J for helping me craft Luke, and help me pinpoint what Rey's style is going to be like.


	4. Chapter 4

Rey’s shoes slapped against the carpet as she sprinted to her door, hands trembling in excitement as she tried to slot the key into the lock before swinging it open.

 

“Finn!” she shouted. He was seated at their kitchen table, paperwork splayed out in front of him, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose in lieu of his usual contacts. When she entered the room, he removed his glasses to place them atop his work and looked up at her, his expression hopeful.

 

“Finn, I got a job!”

 

He stood up and threw his arms out so she could barrel into him, arms crashing around him, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. “Peanut, I’m so proud of you. Where is it?”

 

“You wouldn’t believe it. It happened to me and _I_ barely believe it.”

 

“Tell me everything.”

 

She grinned at him. Everything felt so much lighter now, and she swore she hadn’t stopped smiling since she had left Resistance that afternoon. “Let’s order a pizza first. Papa John’s. I’ll invite Rose over and we can drink a few beers to celebrate.”

 

Finn called to order the pizza while Rey ran to the corner store across the street, opting for a step above her usual selection of ‘cheapest beer possible’. On her way back to the apartment she knocked on their neighbour Rose’s door, who graciously accepted her invitation.

 

Rose, Finn, and Rey sat together on their couch and cracked open a few beers while Finn started up a Roots album. Rose and Finn listened with rapt attentiveness while Rey regaled them with the tale of Luke and Resistance Tattoos. Just as the conversation was changing towards the haunted dryer in their building, the doorbell rang with their pizza delivery, and Finn leapt out of his seat to run to the door.

 

Rose mused, “Someone’s eager to pay for pizza.”

 

“He likes the pizza guy,” Rey whispered in conspiratal tones.

 

“Hey, you.” Poe’s gentle tones drifted up from the entryway, and both Rose and Rey peered over the couch while trying to appear nonchalant. Rey had to admit Poe _was_ handsome, all soft lines and bedroom eyes and perfectly mussed hair, even when he paired it with a grey and unflattering Papa John’s polo.

 

“Hey,” Finn responded, and even from across the room Rey could feel the heat emanating from his cheeks.

 

Poe peered into the room and commented, “Looks like you’re having a little party tonight.”

 

“Yeah! Yeah, Rey just got a new job, it’s pretty great. You want to -- I mean, I know you’re working, but maybe… if it’s your last run, or something, you wanna come inside?”

 

Finn’s embarrassed voice was adorable.

 

“I have to work for another hour, but I’ll be by after that?”

 

“That would be -- cool!”

 

“See you then!”

 

Finn closed the door and put the hand that wasn’t holding the pizza to his chest, closing his eyes.

 

“Look at you,” Rose cooed.

 

“I need to shower,” Finn said. “And shave, and fix my hair, and --”

 

Rey held her palm to him. “Calm down, Finn. Eat first, then worry about the rest.”

 

“Right.” Finn sat down with them at the kitchen table, scarfing down two pieces of pizza at light speed before dashing into the bathroom to take an unnecessarily long shower. In the meantime, Rose and Rey surfed through Netflix while polishing off the last of the pizza, trying to find a movie that was both inoffensive and entertaining for them to watch once Poe arrived.

 

Rey heard the hot water turn off, and the door banged open before he practically sprinted out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. “What do I wear?” he frantically called into the living room.

 

“What was wrong with what you were wearing earlier?” Rey called back.

 

“It smells like pizza.”

 

“Yes, that will definitely offend the pizza delivery guy.”

 

A few minutes later, he emerged in something surprisingly suitable: a simple black well-fitted long-sleeved shirt and black slim-fit jeans. Before he could even take a seat, the doorbell went off again, and Finn cried out “doorbell!” before shuffling off to the entrance.

 

Leaning in the doorway, wearing a crooked smile that broadened when he saw Finn, was Poe. He had changed out of his Papa John’s shirt into an orange button-down that would have turned most people into a pumpkin, but Poe managed to wear with complete confidence.

 

“Come in,” Finn said, closing the door behind Poe. Poe’s gaze flitted around the apartment, and he muttered “nice place”.

 

“Do you want any pizza?” Finn offered half-heartedly. “It’s cold, but I can pop it in the oven.”

 

“God no.” Finn’s eyebrows shot up, and Poe held a hand up. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad pizza, I just eat too much of it. Hard to say no to cheap pizza. I’ll take a beer, though.”

 

Turning to Rose and Rey, Finn asked, “Did you guys pick a movie?” He turned back to Poe, who was making his way into the living room, and muttered, “I hope watching a movie is ok.”

 

“Thor,” Rose said. “Perfect combination of action and Chris Hemsworth’s chest.”

 

Poe flopped onto the couch beside Rose, looking immediately comfortable. Rey could tell he was the sort of person who fit in anywhere he found himself. “A movie is perfect.” He turned to Rose. “Also, Loki is where the eye candy is at. I guess I just like villains.” His gaze flickered back to Finn, who was cracking open beers for the group, and Poe shot him a small smile. Finn’s cheeks darkened and he turned his head down, hiding his own smile, before entering the living room to pass a beer to each of them and taking a seat beside Poe.

 

As the movie started, Rey dimmed the lights and placed a tub of popcorn on their coffee table.

 

To most it would have been an unremarkable evening: a gathering of four friends to watch a superhero movie, making awful jokes and drinking a few too many beers, but to Rey, it was one of the best nights in her memory.

 

And she could have sworn, in the flickers of the tv’s light in the darkness, that she spotted Finn and Poe holding hands.

 

* * *

 

 

The first month of Rey’s apprenticeship passed remarkably quickly. She spent most of her work hours cleaning: sweeping floors, sanitizing stations, wiping down counters, and cleaning the bathroom. Luke also assigned a daily deep cleaning task to her, from scrubbing the tile to wiping down the floorboards. The work most often kept her busy for 3 to 4 hours a day, and while she worked she would pause and watch Luke work on clients, or listen to his conversations and the way he managed to put the person in his chair at ease.

 

When her cleaning duties were finished, she would spend an hour doing paperwork, counting cash, and entering hastily scribbled appointment cards into the calendar. Finally, once the necessary work was complete, she would practice.

 

Some days she would sketch ideas that she had for flash art, others she would execute her ideas onto grapefruits.

 

For all of her flash practice she would use stencils, but she often remembered her first tattoo, done freehand. She longed to again execute the idea while she worked, let it come to life after starting as only a few brushstrokes for guidance. But Luke also enforced the importance of a stencil to keep everything uniform, so she acquiesced, for now.

 

On a stormy Sunday, one of Luke’s clients cancelled due to the weather, so Luke and Rey sketched in silence while Bob Marley played over the stereo.

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to tattoo you yet,” Luke commented, a wry smile on his face.

 

Rey shrugged, her attention staying on her work. “Didn’t think it was my place.” She chose not to add that her finances were also stretched tight while she was making minimum wage.

 

“You’ve been a good apprentice, Rey.” He smudged a line on his work with a fingertip turned gray from granite. “I’d be happy to tattoo you, no charge. We can do it today if you want, since Wedge cancelled.”

 

“Really?” Her back straightened and she met his smile with her own. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, flipping a page in his book so he could start a new sketch.

 

She paused, tapping her lips with her fingertip. “What do you want to tattoo?”

 

For a half second he smiled at her before he turned to his paper and started to sketch furiously.

 

“You told me on your first day that I’m a tiger,” he told her before holding the sketch up to her. “If I’m a tiger, you’re a lynx. You’re small, but fierce and resourceful. You’re a big cat, like me. And… the word lynx is based off of a word for light or brightness, and that seems somehow suitable.”

 

Her laugh was so sudden and loud it bordered on a guffaw. “Yes, this. Tattoo this on me.”

 

“Where?” he asked.

 

Rey was well-tattooed, but she had kept most of her pieces to her torso and her legs, other than a few sparse pieces. She saved her arms for her favourite pieces, the work she wanted to look at daily.

 

She pointed to her left inner forearm, bare except for a small tattoo on her wrist. “Here.”

 

Luke was surprisingly professional while he worked, even on her. At first they discussed a few shop topics -- ink brands, the need for more trace paper -- but it slowly became personal.

 

“Where did you grow up?” he asked her.

 

“London,” she answered. “I lived there till I was eighteen, and met my closest friend Finn there. When he came back here for college, I finished school and then followed.”

 

“Which city do you prefer?”

 

“Oh, New York,” she answered quickly. “It’s so vibrant and alive. I adore it.”

 

“Have you always wanted to tattoo?”

 

“I’ve loved art for many years. I wanted to tattoo since I got my first work when I was fifteen.”

 

They continued as such, the piece taking almost three hours with few breaks. Rey had a strong constitution when it came to tattoos, and unlike most tattoo artists Luke didn’t smoke.

 

When he was done, Rey was in love with her piece. Luke did a roaring headshot, black and grey, dropping in just a hint of yellow to brighten its eyes. He gave it a light blue background to add contrast to the black and grey. His linework was impeccable, strong and perfectly straight.

 

“Rey’s lynx,” he muttered as he wrapped it. “I like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to J for helping me with a few topics on this chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

Finn woke to the buzzing of an alarm and he felt the heavy weight beside him lift off the bed to turn it off. 

 

“Is it that time already?” he groused into the darkness in low tones. His eyes, still gummy with sleep, remained firmly shut.

 

“Sorry babe,” was Poe’s whispered response, and Finn smiled faintly when he felt dry lips brush against his. Poe smelled like cedar and spice and tasted like bitter mornings. 

 

“You’re working at your dad’s tonight, right? Are you free tomorrow?” 

 

“I am, I’ll make you dinner?”

 

“Mmm.” Finn sighed in contentment. “I can’t wait.”

 

In the year since they had first held hands while watching Thor, Finn and Poe’s relationship had flourished into something slow, patient, comfortable, and secure. In that time, Finn had learned so much about Poe. He learned that the pizza delivery job was only a side job to help his parents, who owned the franchise. Poe’s full-time job was in maintenance at Central Park, but he also worked a couple of evenings here and there as a barback at his friend Jess’s restaurant. Even while working the three jobs, Poe still managed to find time to run three times weekly to train for his seventh half marathon. He worked so hard and lived in a shoebox apartment with a roommate, Snap, so that he could save up for school to fulfill his dream of getting his commercial pilot’s license. He was bisexual, and his last long term relationship had been with a woman who broke his heart. 

 

Poe also snored, hated sweets, and believed that Cheetos were their own food group. He talked too loudly when he was on the phone, lost his keys constantly, and bit his nails. 

 

Finn treasured every one of these details because they were all part of the man before him, who was getting dressed in the dark just so Finn could stay comfortable. Poe was kind, caring, charismatic, and bold. He hadn’t told Poe that he loved him, not yet, even though he knew in the depths of his heart that he did. He just hadn’t found the right moment, or the courage. 

 

After dressing, the door closed behind Poe with a click. Finn didn’t need to be at work for another three hours and he tried his best to fall back asleep, but sleep seemed to be particularly elusive today. With a sigh he rolled out of bed, slipping on his bathrobe and slippers before emerging to seek out a cup of coffee.

 

To his great surprise, Rey was already up, standing in front of the coffee machine in her own bathrobe, her hair piled in a messy bun atop her head, her gaze distant. She jumped when Finn asked her, “What are you doing up so early?”

 

“Luke wants to get breakfast today before we open the shop. You?”

 

“Poe had to go to work and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

 

Rey let out a non-committal “mmf” before the coffee maker declared its completion with a beep and she poured coffees for them both. 

 

Although Rey looked exhausted -- the last time she had seen 7am had been before she started at Resistance last year -- she wore a faint smile while she began to wake. It was a smile that had worn more and more as she had settled into a job that she truly loved and cared about. 

 

After everything Rey had been through in her life, she had found a slice of well-deserved happiness.

 

Feeling far too emotional about the matter for so early in the morning, Finn reached forward and pulled Rey into his arms for a tight hug. She was as warm as a furnace and smelled like coffee and incense. 

 

“Love you, Peanut,” he muttered into her hair.

 

“Love you too, you goof.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve had enough of these high school girls, coming into the shop and giggling. They’re ruining the atmosphere.”

 

Kylo leaned back in his seat, gazing anywhere but at Hux while he went on yet another of his exhausting tirades. The shop was too busy, it wasn’t busy enough, Snoke was taking too big of a cut, the location was bad, the shop was too small -- Kylo had heard it all. Phasma was more pliable than Kylo, nodding in mild interest while Hux complained. 

 

“All they want to do is fawn over Kylo, it’s absurd and childish. Where is our professionalism? It’s scaring away the real clients.”

 

“Are you jealous, Hux, that the girls aren’t coming in to fawn over you?”   
  


Hux’s jaw closed with a snap, and a bright flush the colour of his flaming hair blotched across his cheeks. “You are insufferable,” he hissed out through clenched teeth.

 

Kylo shrugged. “A bit, yeah.”

 

He couldn’t help himself, as he watched Hux’s mouth flap open and closed like a fish out of water -- it was too easy to get a rise out of Hux, too simple to push his buttons. 

 

After collecting himself, Hux continued. “I’m going to speak to Snoke, we need to put an ‘18+’ sign on the door to keep the riff-raff out.”

 

“Yes, because we need to look even more like an adult theatre than we already do,” Kylo drawled.

 

Phasma added, “Not to mention every one of those girls has a fake ID.” Phasma wasn’t wound as tight as Hux was, not by a long shot, but she still had a more than healthy respect for the rules, and the last words were spat out.

 

Finally their food arrived, blessing Kylo with brief silence as the server placed their plates before them. The moment that she did, though, a frown broke across Kylo’s features. 

 

“I asked specifically for hollandaise on the side. You doused the eggs with them, this is garbage.”

 

The server appeared flustered, batting her eyelashes frantically. “I’m sorry sir, I’ll get this fixed right away.” The plate disappeared, and Kylo leaned back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“No need to bite the girl’s head off,” Hux muttered; Kylo only sighed in response. If that was how his day was going to go, he was going to need more coffee. Or, even better, a Bloody Mary.

 

“Kylo.” Phasma’s voice was hushed, and he opened his eyes to look at her; her gaze was focused past him, on the entrance to the restaurant behind their booth. “Luke Skywalker just walked in the restaurant.”

 

Kylo slipped down the booth so his head was no longer visible over the top, which was quite the feat considering his stature. He ended up with half of his body invading the limited space beneath the table, much to Hux’s chagrin, who shot him a disgusted look. 

 

Evidently, it was going to be a Bloody Mary sort of day.

 

“What’s he doing here?” Kylo hissed.

 

“Probably eating, I don’t know, do I look like his nanny?” 

 

Kylo snorted at Phasma’s attitude. “Fine. Is he alone?”

 

“No, he’s with someone. A young woman. Does he have a daughter?”

 

“No.”

 

“Maybe a friend, then. Or an apprentice.”

 

The thought of Luke at  _ his  _ breakfast spot with an  _ apprentice _ made his blood boil. He wanted to see this girl, get a feel for who Luke had deemed worthy of his time, but the last thing Kylo wanted was for Luke to see him. 

 

“They’re being seated on the opposite side of the restaurant. You can stop hiding.” Phasma didn’t bother to hide her exasperation.

 

After peering around the corner to be certain that his path to the exit was clear, Kylo stood, throwing down his napkin. “The server’s taking too damn long. Tell her I won’t be paying for my meal. I’m going to Starbucks, I’ll see you at work.”

 

With that he marched out the door, trying his best not to kick down a table on the way.

 

He heard Hux murmur behind him, “I hate when he does that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter transition chapter today.
> 
> Thank you for being so patient while I build these characters a little bit, things will be getting a little more interesting in the next chapter! Maybe Kylo and Rey will be in the same room without avoiding or sassing each other. Maybe.


	6. Chapter 6

The Los Angeles Tattoo Convention was a mess. 

 

It was a mess every year, and this year was no different. They had sold too many tickets again. The crowds were dense and the air was thick with the sounds of buzzing guns and too loud voices.

 

Kylo had a headache. His booth had been crowded from the moment the doors opened, giggling girls and dumb boys buzzing around like wasps, asking him stupid questions. 

 

He had a brief respite between two appointments at the convention, so he rolled his chair over to Hux’s adjacent booth and said, “I need some air.” 

 

Without looking up from his client’s arm, Hux sneered, “Don’t we all.”

 

Kylo rolled his eyes. “You watch my booth for half an hour, I’ll watch yours when you want a break.”

 

“Bring me a coffee and we have a deal.”

 

“Fine.” He would just bring him shitty convention coffee, the type that managed to be gritty between your teeth. 

 

Keeping his hood up in an attempt to maintain some anonymity, Kylo stalked around the convention floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wanted to scope out the competition and check for any newly emerging artists, but he also had ulterior, more selfish motives. 

 

As he made his loop past dozens of artist booths, none of their portfolios impressed him. Many were at their chairs working on clients, and others were standing and flipping through their portfolio with prospective customers. A few were alone, either chatting with other artists or sketching in their books. None of them possessed the skill that he seeked. It was disappointing, considering that this was an invitation-only event and clearly they were laxing on their standards for the calibre of artists that were invited.

 

Almost half an hour had passed and he was about to give up when he saw it.

 

It was a smaller booth, tucked away in the sort of quieter corner reserved for new invitees. It was empty, with no clients or artists to be found; the artist had to be taking a break. He was immediately drawn to it by the few sketches that were posted, bright and colourful neo-traditional pieces with strong linework. Grateful for the fact that he wouldn’t have to interact with the artist, he picked up the portfolio and began to leaf through the work.

 

It was magnificent.

 

There was no other word for it. It was everything that he had been looking for, and so much more. Their linework was bold, yet clean and impeccable. The colouration was bright and the shading was executed to perfection. Every single piece he laid eyes on was unique and clearly well thought out, nothing of the sort that you saw on every college student on campus. 

 

This was the artist. This was the one who would do his back piece. Rarely in his life had he ever felt so certain of anything. 

 

Kylo didn’t want to linger, and Hux would need him to be back soon with a coffee in hand. He quickly grabbed a business card and made his way to the Starbucks in the convention center, feeling significantly more generous than he had upon leaving his booth. 

 

He had finally found the artist. It was a relief, he knew. His back was an empty, open canvas, awaiting the person with the combination of the style he wanted and the technique, which this artist had shown in droves even in a short portfolio. He also was, admittedly, a bit nervous: the canvas that was his body had limited space available, and he hesitated to give some of that space to a new person, especially when he suspected they were new on the scene.

 

Once he reached the Starbucks the line was unsurprisingly lengthy, so he pulled the business card back out of his pocket. 

 

When he saw what was printed out there, he snapped “for fuck’s sake” so loudly that half the line in front of him turned to give him a dirty look. 

 

_ Rey Jackson _

_ Neo-Traditional & Traditional _

_ Resistance Tattoos _

 

Of all the  _ fucking _ people at all the  _ fucking _ places, it had to be that girl. Luke’s apprentice, the one that Phasma saw when they were at breakfast two years ago.

 

After that near run-in, Kylo had put Luke and Resistance Tattoos as far in the back of his mind as he could muster. He had refused to seek out Luke’s apprentice’s work, to compare himself to her or even bother giving her the benefit of learning her name. Already he had allowed thoughts of Luke to overtake his consciousness and his time far too much, and obsessing over both him and his new apprentice would only drive him closer to madness than he already was. It had taken all of his willpower, but he had managed to shove them out of his thoughts, focusing his efforts on his own work instead.

 

Apparently, they could never leave him alone or allow him to stew in peace. They kept wiggling into his thoughts like worms. 

 

He wanted to throw something. Or smash something. Either would work, really. Both were a release for the blood loudly rushing through his veins, pounding in his ears, making everything around him red and fuzzy like he was watching his life through a shitty television. Probably because his  _ life _ was shitty television. 

 

To make matters worse, her name was vaguely familiar. Like he had met her once in his life before. Had they had a bad date that he had tried to forget? Did she go to his high school? Why --

 

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to work with her, now that he knew that she worked at Luke’s shop. It was out of the question. Resistance Tattoos was Germany and First Order was England and he wasn’t going to work with them just because he liked their fucking schnitzel. 

 

“What can I get for you, sir?”

 

The barista was talking to him. He closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths, willing himself not to scream at her. It wasn’t her fault that the world was mocking him. 

 

“Venti chai latte, almond milk, two shots, sugar free vanilla syrup, extra hot. Double cupped.” After a moment, he added, “And a venti dark roast black.” He was feeling less amicable than before, but he still didn’t want to be completely rude to Hux, especially if he rolled in with his own Starbucks cup.

 

“Can I have a name for that?”

 

“Kylo.”

 

“It’ll be just a moment.”

 

He stepped aside to wait for his drinks and pulled the business card out again, studying it. It was heavy weight card stock and glossy, black with simple white print. Rey would have designed it, not Luke. His would have had fucking Hawaiian print or a picture of Bob Marley on it. 

 

“Kyle?”

 

He rolled his eyes and took the cups, speed walking back to the booth. 

 

* * *

 

Kylo wondered if she had an Instagram account. 

 

She had to, any smart tattoo artist these days did. 

 

Not that it mattered to him. He wouldn’t look up her work. He wouldn’t try to find a picture of her, try to determine why her name was  _ so damn familiar _ . It didn’t matter, because he  _ wasn’t fucking working with her goddammit.  _

 

The convention was done for the day and he had declined Hux and Phasma’s offer of drinks, saying that he was tired, even though he couldn’t recall being less tired in his life. He paced the length of his hotel room, the TV blasting a  _ Survivor  _ rerun that he had no interest in. 

 

How much would it hurt him, really, to check just her Instagram? He only wanted to see --

 

No. He wouldn’t. He had obsessed about this enough. At the risk of running into her, he should cancel his appointments tomorrow, say he’s sick. He’d spend the day in his hotel, maybe even tour the city, and then fly home. Maybe he could get an early flight home, that way he could grouse in his own bathtub instead of in a gritty hotel one.

 

He had to accept that his dream back piece would remain just that, a dream. 

 

But really… did it have to? 

 

Was his wounded pride getting in the way of a small slice of happiness in an otherwise thoroughly unsatisfying life?

 

He slouched down onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. He was such an idiot. He was thirty-two with the head of a nineteen year old. All he did was obsess over an old grudge, allowing himself to fall victim to jealousy. 

 

He was better than that.

 

No, he wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t and telling himself otherwise was just a lie to himself. 

 

But… was it too late to be a better person? To not vilify the girl, just because she aligned with Luke?

 

Perhaps she didn’t know who he truly was. Perhaps she fell victim to the Luke Skywalker facade that he had so carefully constructed, that of a kind hippie who would never break anyone’s heart.

 

Especially not his nephew’s. 

 

Kylo’s phone was in his hand.

 

He hated himself. 

 

He opened his app and pulled up her account, @reyjacksonart. 

 

Was he really being a better person by trying to judge her without Luke, or was his jealousy just merging with curiosity? 

 

It didn’t matter, because he was here now. 

 

_ Rey Jackson _

_ Neo-Traditional and Traditional _

_ Resistance Tattoos, New York City, NY _

_ Books Closed _

 

Books closed? Already? Damn, she was good. She had a moderate following, around 5000 followers. Nothing close to his hundred thousand, of course, and --

 

_ Stop comparing yourself. _

 

He began to flick through her work. All of her pieces were stunning and unique, and any of them he would be proud to sport as a tattoo himself. 

 

Finally, he stumbled on a picture of her, about a year old, and he couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the fact that the world was, more clearly than ever, mocking him.

 

She was standing arm-in-arm with Luke himself, mouth wide and teeth showing in laughter. Her hair was pulled back, showcasing her sharp angles and bright eyes. Her kindness and warmth radiated even through the small picture. The caption read:  _ It’s official -- I’m a fully trained tattoo artist! Goodbye apprenticeship. Come see me at Resistance Tattoos for your next piece! _

 

He knew, right away, why her name was so familiar. He had flipped through her portfolio three years ago when she had applied at First Order. 

 

Oh, how far she had come.

 

And oh, how foolish he had been. 

 

He could have had her -- her talent, her blinding smile -- in his shop, working beside him every day. He could have trained her himself. He could have been a better teacher than Luke ever was, honing her skills to perfection, bringing her the highest quality clientele and giving her so much more than a tiny booth in a corner at the LA convention. He could give her all that he had earned, and so much more, for he knew in his heart that even with only a few years experience her skill would shortly surpass his. 

 

But instead she was in Luke’s clutches, where she would be underappreciated and undervalued for the rest of her career.

 

It was maddening, the whole situation was maddening. What were the chances that the small girl who had come into First Order, entering like a proud lioness and leaving like a wounded housecat, would turn into who she had? His arrogance and unwillingness to take a chance had blinded him, clearly. At the time her work had been good but not great, and not nearly good enough for First Order. Now, she would put Hux and Phasma to shame. 

 

Kylo wanted her in his shop. But more importantly, he wanted her to tattoo him. 

 

Standing up to pace again, he began to form a plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shit-ton of internal monologue y'all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all your comments are MAKING my LIFE. You are all wonderful treasures and I love all of you. You make this 100x more fun to write.

For the hundredth time, Kylo checked his watch.

 

8:45pm.

 

The last vestiges of daylight had slipped behind skyscrapers, but even so New York didn’t know darkness. The streets were bathed in light from buildings, cars, and street lamps. At his feet, a small dog was barking at him persistently while the owner stared at his phone like the dog wasn’t even there. Kylo took it as a sign that it was time to swallow his pride and step inside. 

 

His gaze flickered up to the sign above him, appearing as battered as the shop’s owner. 

 

Resistance Tattoos.

 

Kylo hadn’t thought he’d be back here again, nevermind the three times earlier this week he had come by to ask clients who were leaving if Luke was in. He had tried different times of day, and finally, today, a woman had told him “no”. 

 

His repeated checking of the shop’s website and Instagram showed that they were the only two artists who worked there, so Rey had to be closing alone.

 

Taking a deep breath to bolster himself, he swung the door open, the bell clinking joyfully at him. He was immediately assaulted with his uncle’s hippie smells, incense and weed and sage. The art on the walls was the same as it had been years ago, but there were new additions to add a more modern flair to the 70s feel, all of which he knew were Rey’s. A crappy ska band played over the speakers, which Kylo assumed was another addition of Rey’s. 

 

Why the fuck was he here again? This place was full of bad memories and reminders of his own inadequacies.

 

“We’re closing in fifteen.” It was Rey’s voice that called from the back, her accent immediately familiar even from their short interaction. She sounded like she was rustling around back there, and he heard a quiet crash. 

 

“That’s fine,” replied Kylo.

 

The rustling ceased, and Rey emerged from the back. 

 

She looked different, even from the picture he saw of her a year ago. Some of the round softness was gone from her face, revealing her cheekbones, but the presence of her freckles made her still youthful. Her hair was darker, which suited her pale skin. She was also sporting a side shave and pulling it off marvelously, the rest of her hair tumbling down in messy waves. She wore a black, loose-fitting top beneath a black cardigan over dark wash jeans with holes in the knees where tattoos poked through. 

 

“It’s you.” She sounded far from pleased. “Luke is gone for the day, he’ll be back on Wednesday.”

 

“I’m not here for Luke.”

 

She audibly swallowed, her brows falling into the faintest of furrows. He noticed that she kept her distance from him, staying several feet from the counter he was in front of. 

 

“Why are you here then?” she asked him, clearly not one to mince words. 

 

“I want you to tattoo me.”

 

Silence. 

 

Her arms snaked across her chest and she held her chin up, ready to defend herself. She demanded, “What is this?” 

 

“This is me trying to be your client.”

 

“Is this a joke?” Her gaze drifted around the room like she was looking for hidden cameras. “Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out from behind that plant --” she gestured to a giant fern in the corner, “-- and tell me I’ve been Punk’d?” 

 

“Don’t be so obtuse,” Kylo snapped. Immediately regretting his shortness, he sighed and removed his beanie to run a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole to you, I know --”

 

“Yes, you were.”

 

Her jaw set, she levelled a challenging gaze at him. In spite of the foot difference in their stature, it managed to make him feel small. She was a fucking hurricane of a woman. Regardless, he continued. “But I saw your work in LA and I was impressed. Very impressed. You’re skilled.”

 

“That’s not what you said to me last time.” A hurricane which was unwilling to change its winds, apparently. 

 

“I was…” he felt the heat of shame rise in his cheeks. “I was rude to you, and I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.”

 

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, and her hands slipped to her sides while her gaze fell away from him. “I still don’t know why you want me to tattoo you. You work at the best shop in the city, can’t you just get one of them to do it?”

 

Cutting through the tension in the room, he took a step closer to her, rewarding him with the faintest smell of jasmine that was a starkly sweet contrast to the otherwise earthy scents of the shop. 

 

“I know he was an asshole those years ago,” he repeated, “but you’re talented, Rey. Your style is what I’ve been dreaming of for years. Those other guys in the shop…” Another step. Something spicy beneath the jasmine. “They’re good, but they don’t have your style, your linework, your colours.”

 

She sounded exasperated when she asked, “What’s the piece?”, taking a step forward and matching his gaze again.

 

Her eyes were hazel, he hadn’t noticed it before. From a distance they looked brown, but up close he spotted yellows and greens too. A kaleidoscope. “A dragon,” he told her. “A back piece. But if we do this, I have conditions.”

 

Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t think you’re the one to be making demands.”

 

“Please,” he said gently. “Hear me out. Luke and I… have a past. One that I’m not ready to surface. I want to come in when he’s not here, and I don’t want us to be bothered by other clients. In return, I’ll pay you twice your posted rate and give you a guest spot at First Order.”

 

For thirty seconds, she contemplated, and he waited patiently. He wanted this, and he wanted it badly, but he could only push her so far. 

 

“Yes, ok. I’ll do it.”

 

* * *

 

Jesus, take the wheel.

 

What the hell was she  _ thinking _ ? Why had she succumbed to his flattery and to his puppy-dog gaze? She was better than this. She was better than  _ him _ .

 

Yet here she was, standing across from him, agreeing to this. It wasn’t the money that fueled her: since completing her apprenticeship, she maintained a steady stream of clients and she lived significantly more comfortably than she had in the past. It wasn’t the guest spot at First Order, either; she had a feeling she’d never take him up on that offer. 

 

It was the bloody soft spot she had for honesty. 

 

He had apologized to her and admitted that he had been an asshole (which he was), and when she had looked into his eyes, she saw that he was being earnest. She didn’t respect him, not yet, but she respected the honest part of him.

 

Hell, this still seemed like an awful idea. But if she was going to do this, she wanted to do it her way. 

 

“I have two conditions,” she told him, and he nodded warily. “One, I get to choose the music.”

 

“Come on, don’t do that.” He crossed his arms. “It’s going to be a 20 hour piece, I’m not listening to your ska garbage.”

 

“Don’t you dare insult Operation Ivy.” She shoved a finger towards him. “If you want this, my music. Period.”

 

“Fine.” Although he acquiesced to her request, his lower lip rose in a pout. 

 

“Two, I’m doing it freehand.”

 

“You’re insane.”

 

“All my large pieces are freehand. Take it or leave it.”

 

He threw his head back and groaned to the ceiling. “Fine, just… fine.”

 

“Good.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back to survey him. He was broader than she remembered, the breadth of his shoulders seeming to fill the room. “How are you envisioning this piece?”

 

“Bold,” he responded. “Heavy linework, a lot of emphasis on traditional but with neo-traditional colours. The dragon will be the centerpiece, but I want to incorporate water and fire in the background.” 

 

“Do you want it to be Asian traditional?”

 

“Not overly. You can’t do a dragon without some Asian inspiration but I’d like to see your Western twist on it. Think Tolkien meets neo-traditional but with some Asian flair to it.”

 

So he was a Tolkien fan. That warmed her to him, infinitesimally. At very least they’d have one topic to discuss over their twenty-something hours together. 

 

“Do you have any sketches?” she asked, pulling out a notebook. “I don’t normally ask this, but I also don’t normally tattoo other artists.”

 

Kylo said, gently, “No, I want this to be all yours. I trust you.”

 

Her breath caught at his words, but she tried not to think about that too much, focusing instead on her paper before her. She jotted down his notes about style ideas before looking up and asking him, “Can I see the canvas?”

 

It was Kylo’s turn to display a bit of discomfort, stiffening at her request. But really, what did he expect? That she would tattoo him through his t-shirt? “Right,” he said, “sure.” 

 

He turned around so his back was facing to her, and he pulled his Mastodon tour t-shirt up high enough so she could see his back. A geometric black and grey piece covered his left side, and his right ribs had a piece that looked like broad brushstrokes in a style she had never seen before. But his back was otherwise completely devoid of tattoos. Freckles and moles dotted here and there, something that she’d have to work around, and with his hands raised to hold his shirt in place she could see the valleys and peaks of muscular definition in his upper back, something that she’d also have to work around. He was particularly broad beneath his armpits, his torso following a ‘v’ shape that ended at his narrow waist. 

 

Fuck, he was tall. And big. Rey had no doubt that he worked out. 

 

Not that she needed to think about that fact for anything other than an artistic perspective; she would have to work around the musculature and try to utilize the natural shapes as part of the tattoo. She was definitely not thinking about the fact that she would have her hands on his back while she worked, because that would be incredibly unprofessional of her. 

 

Besides, he was an asshole. An asshole who had accidentally lead her towards the best job that she ever had. 

 

“Right, lots of space to work with.” Her gaze darted back towards her book, and she jotted down a few more notes before pulling out her appointment book. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pull his shirt back down and turn to face her again.

 

“It’s best if you come in on Monday or Tuesday, late in the day. Luke leaves early on Monday and takes Tuesdays off. We close at 9 so I can book you in at 7 or 8 and stick around till 10 or 11.”

 

“I can handle longer than a five-hour session.”

 

She raised a skeptical brow at him. “Sure you can, but I don’t smoke. We’ll be going straight. Anyways,” she continued, “I’m booked up for the next three weeks but we can get started on August 11th. That gives me some time to do some initial sketches as well. I want to lay down the outline so come in early, around 6:30.” 

 

“Nothing sooner?”

 

She shot him a glare. “I’m not going to cancel my other appointments for you.”  

 

He returned her glare with a smirk. “Fine. I’ll see you on the 11th at 6:30.”

 

“Looking forward to it.”

 

After Kylo left, Rey locked the door behind him, letting out a long sigh of exasperation.

 

What had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little quick note about freehand:
> 
> I'm not a tattoo artist so I'm not the most knowledgeable on this, but here we go. Most artists use a stencil, where they make their sketches on trace paper and then copy it over to a sticky paper where they transfer it onto the client's body. Some rare artists use freehand, where they use a special kind of marker to draw a few lines on the client's body and go from there. Freehand is really neat and really unusual. 
> 
> Thank y'all again, a million times over, for reading this.


	8. Chapter 8

Rey’s door slammed shut behind her and her keys clinked in her bowl beside the door before she flicked on the lights in her apartment.

 

This place was still new to her, having only moved in six months prior, and she had decided to take a konmari approach with her decorations and possessions. It had the dual purpose of fitting in her budget and keeping everything simple and minimalist. It was small but the open concept design kept it from feeling cramped, with the kitchen to her right only divided from the living room before her by the change from linoleum flooring to laminate. She had a cream pull-out Ikea couch in the living room with a black coffee table, and she used her laptop instead of spending her funds on a tv. The kitchen and the bathroom branched off to the left. She had wanted to paint to get away from the sterile white walls, but she just hadn’t had the time or the funds yet, and she desperately needed to change the incandescent lights so it stopped feeling like a hospital. She had moved when Poe and Finn had made the decision to move in together, and they now shared the apartment she and Finn used to share. It was too small for three anyways, and she could finally afford to live on her own like she had always wanted to, so she had moved into the one bedroom across the hall. It gave her a little more space while still having her best friend only a knock away.

 

For a brief moment she considered spending the night in, rolling a pinner for herself and watching a bad movie, but her mind was still reeling from the evening’s interaction and she really wanted to decompress with Finn.

 

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she texted him.  _ You still up? _

 

She threw a pizza pocket in the microwave while she awaited Finn’s response, which came back quickly.  _ Yeah, what’s up? _

 

_ Can I come over for a little? _

 

_ Sure, peanut. _

 

Rey wrapped her pizza pocket in a paper towel and went across the hall, where Finn was already opening the door for her.

 

“Hey.” He wrapped her in a quick one-armed hug before letting her inside. Poe, lounging on the couch in his boxers, shot Rey a quick wave. 

 

Rey followed Finn into the kitchen and said, “The strangest thing happened to me today. Do either of you know who Kylo Ren is?”

 

“Wasn’t he the guy at that first tattoo shop who rejected you?” Finn asked while Rey began to eat.

 

“That’s the one. He came into Resistance today.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He wants me to tattoo him.”

 

Finn leaned on the counter, glass of milk in hand, eyeing her skeptically. “And what did you tell him?”

 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I agreed to do it.”

 

“Why?” Finn asked, taking a swig of his drink. “Wasn’t he a jerk to you?”

 

“He was, but he apologized. He said he saw my work in LA and loved it.”

 

Finn’s brows furrowed, but before he could voice his concern Rey continued. “I know, I need to be careful. I don’t trust or respect him. But once he’s touched by my ink, he’s my client.”

 

“Is it a big tattoo?”

 

“It’s going to be a back piece, so yes.”

 

“Anyways, Luke will be there. He’ll keep an eye on this Kylo guy.”

 

“Well…” Feeling sheepish, Rey looked away.

 

“Well what?” Finn muttered.

 

“Apparently, Kylo and Luke have a past, and Kylo doesn’t want Luke to be there when I’m working on him.”

 

Deadpan, Finn asked, “And that doesn’t sound suspicious to you? At all?”

 

“Well…” Rey pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I did some research when I was walking to the subway and I found this.” 

 

She passed her phone to Finn, who read the screen with a brow that was furrowed at first before jumping up. “Luke’s his uncle?”

 

“And they’re both tattoo artists. Maybe he used to be Luke’s apprentice or something and they had a falling out. I don’t think Kylo’s lying, I think something’s up.”

 

“This still smells very weird to me, peanut.”

 

“Me too,” she admitted.  

 

“So you’ll take care of yourself, right?” he asked gingerly. 

 

“Of course.” Rey reached across to hug him, breathing into his warmth when he pulled her in. 

 

“You smell like pizza pockets,” Finn muttered into her hair.

 

“You need to shower,” Rey murmured into his shoulder. 

 

From the couch, Poe called, “Can we kick you out so I can have sex with my boyfriend?”

 

Pulling away from Finn, Rey called back, “Fine! I’m leaving. You two are the worst anyways.”

 

* * *

 

Rey couldn’t lie to Luke.

 

He had done too much for her over the past three years. He had been both a mentor and a friend to her. 

 

When she had completed her apprenticeship last year, the terms of her employment had changed. She was no longer an employee of Luke’s, but rather she paid to rent her chair, similar to a hairdresser. As a result, her hours became more flexible as she came in based on client’s needs, with the exception of Monday afternoons and Tuesdays since those were Luke’s days off. She still ended up coming in almost every day because she found she went stir-crazy if she didn’t, too used to working to know what to do with herself with a day off. The other benefit to their arrangement was that it gave her more autonomy with clients. Luke’s clients were Luke’s, Rey’s were Rey’s, and their business was their own. 

 

But it still felt disrespectful for Rey to tattoo Luke’s nephew without telling him. She knew he wasn’t going to stop her, but she still needed to be open, for the sake of her own conscious. 

 

She arrived at the shop at noon on Wednesday, carrying a green tea for Luke and an iced coffee for herself. It was late July and hotter than the equator outside, but Luke never drank anything but extra hot green tea. 

 

“Hey Rey,” he called out when she entered. He was seated at his table with sketches strewn out before him, working on a stencil of an anchor for his afternoon appointment. 

 

“How was your day off?” she asked, placing his tea on the table out of the way of his papers. 

 

“I took a pottery class, it was great. I have a new fruit bowl now.”

 

It wasn’t unusual for Luke to take one class or another to occupy his free time. He spoke about his home life so infrequently that Rey suspected he had no spouse or kids, and those classes kept him busy. Or he could just not want to let her into his personal life and he fabricated tales about the classes to keep her off of his trail. 

 

Rey respected his privacy -- truly, she did -- but his evasiveness only served to make her more curious. Luke was a man cloaked in mystique, from his past to his present, and the more she learned about him the less she felt that she knew, even when working beside him for three years. One thing she couldn’t help but notice was the frequency that his friend Wedge seemed to visit, and the closeness between them. 

 

But that wasn’t her business. Just as his relationship with his nephew wasn’t, even though she suddenly found herself smack in the middle of it. 

 

“Listen,” she began, taking a seat at her desk and pulling out her pinup sketch for her appointment that day, “Kylo Ren stopped by on Monday.”

 

The moment she said Kylo’s name, Luke stopped sketching, his shoulders stiffened, and his gaze raised from his sketch. He didn’t speak, though, so with no small amount of trepidation, Rey continued.

 

“He wants me to tattoo him. A back piece. He saw my work in LA and loved it.”

 

Luke’s response was quiet. “And what did you say?”

 

“I said yes. Luke -- I know he’s your nephew, and he told me you two had a falling out. I don’t know what about, but you’re both tattoo artists and I can do the math. So I wanted to be honest with you.” 

 

The faintest sigh escaped Luke, and he turned back to his work before speaking. “Rey, you’re not my apprentice anymore. You don’t need my permission to tattoo anyone, even my nephew.”

 

“I know.”

 

“That being said, I don’t think this is something you should take lightly. Kylo Ren is --” he paused, searching for the right words, “-- not a bad person, but he is a troubled one. He strongly believes that I wronged him, and this may be an opportunity for revenge.” Luke turned in his chair and looked up at Rey, his sharp blue eyes sad. “Or he could see the same talent in you that I saw, and genuinely appreciates your artistry. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to me, so I don’t know.”

 

“He rejected my work, before I applied here. He told me that it wasn’t good enough.”

 

Luke’s eyes narrowed, but he appeared unsurprised. “Just do me a favour, Rey, and be very careful with him.”

 

So badly, Rey wanted to ask Luke what happened. But she knew if she asked, she would receive no answers and could lose Luke’s respect. So instead she only nodded, insisting to Luke, “I will.”

 

The bell rang as Rey’s first client for the day walked in, and the topic was put to rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's a little short, friends!
> 
> Your comments are giving me LIFE, I am so overjoyed that so many people want to comment on this. I can't thank you all enough!!


	9. Chapter 9

August 11th arrived directly in the middle of a record high heat wave. Even though Resistance was in an old building, Luke had retrofitted an air conditioning system in it years ago, knowing the cost was worth the comfort of him and his customers. Rey still drank her weight in iced coffees to help keep her cool, tied her hair up and off of her neck, and switched her usual dark wash jeans for knee-length dresses. 

 

By 6pm, the shop was empty. Luke had left at two and her last client, the first session of a two-part koi piece, had just left. She pulled her phone out and played Less Than Jake over the stereo, prepped her sketches for Kylo, and gave the shop a quick sweep. 

 

She needed to stay busy to keep her nerves at bay. Both Luke and Finn’s words of caution remained firmly in the forefront of her thoughts. She was beginning to wonder if Kylo would show up at all, or if this was all a big joke played on her, when the bell clinked and his bulk was filling the doorway.

 

“Evening Kylo,” she said gently, placing her broom against the wall. A fine sheen of sweat was plastered to his forehead and his cheeks were painted red from the heat. His usual beanie was absent and he had pulled his hair back into a tight bun at the crown of his head. His ears were big, and they stuck out, but it suited his features so well and she was glad that he didn’t bother covering them up. The confidence was a good look. She had a feeling that Kylo was the sort of guy who wouldn’t be caught dead in shorts; he was wearing jeans, even in this weather, and the sort of tank top that would make most people look like douchebags but he pulled it off, the wings of a chest piece sticking out the top. 

 

“You know, I was really hoping you were going to surprise me and pick decent music.”

 

“I picked something as ska as possible, just for you. Ready to see some sketches?”

 

“You know it.”

 

Since it was a freehand piece, the sketches that Rey had done were for reference, not to be used as stencils. Over the three weeks, and in spite of her trepidation about the situation, she had developed a very clear picture of where she wanted the tattoo to go, and she wanted to ensure Kylo was happy with her vision. 

 

“Come on back.”

 

He passed the counter into the back of the shop, taking a seat on the massage chair which served as her table for clients which was covered with a sterile white sheet. 

 

She splayed the sketches on the seat beside him, and he felt so large as he loomed over her while he observed. 

 

“This is what I was thinking for the head,” she began, gesturing to the head sketch. There was no such thing as a ‘realistic’ dragon, but she had opted for a more lizard-like appearance, with sharp, narrowed eyes, an open mouth baring its sharp teeth, and a full crest above its head. “I was sort of thinking Smaug meets Skyrim. Something that’s a bit menacing.”

 

When she looked up to meet his eyes, they were wide and his brows had neared his hairline. He was also nodding slowly and wearing a faint smile that lifted one corner of his mouth, so she took it as a good sign before she continued.

 

“I wanted to maintain the more traditional Asian feel throughout the body.” She pulled out her next sketch, which she had made from a much larger piece of sketch paper. “I wanted to maintain the long, winding body with the distinctive scales. Very serpentine. And I wanted to include big claws, like this --” she gestured to another sketch that she had, which just showed the hands, “with nice long nails. I didn’t want it to just look like a snake, I wanted to show that it was dangerous with both teeth and hands. I wasn’t sure if you wanted wings, but I’ve sketched them out either tucked in or outspread, and we can do whichever you prefer with them. I thought we could lay out the dragon’s outline today and worry about the background at a later appointment. What do you think?”

 

The pause that followed was so long, Rey became deeply concerned that she had made a severe design error. 

 

Finally, when she could take it no longer, he whispered reverently, “It’s perfect.”

 

* * *

 

When Kylo had arrived at the shop to be greeted by the roaring horns of another shitty ska band, he nearly turned around, fully convinced that he was making a horrible mistake.

 

In spite of his better instincts he found himself shutting the door and greeting Rey. Behind the surprise that she wore, likely that he had actually arrived and was early, she looked bright and cheery. More so than he had ever seen her. She wore a sleeveless black dress that flared at the knees, deceptively light in spite of its colour, and her hair was pulled back into a tall ponytail. 

 

When their eyes met she had smiled at him, and he noticed for the first time that she had dimples.

 

And then she had pulled out her sketches, and Kylo had been completely floored. 

 

For so long he had envisioned this tattoo, crossing every style imaginable and never feeling right. He had tried sketching it himself but it lacked the authentic feel that he was looking for, the type that his portrait work lacked. And then Rey had appeared, holding the type of style he could imagine but never replicate, and the  _ preciseness  _ of the vision that he could never portray on paper was laid out before him, done by  _ her _ .

  
  


It felt like she possessed both the ability to read his mind, and to create that which she saw. 

 

He was left positively speechless, so shocked that she could have known so well exactly what he had wanted for years. Even the words “it’s perfect” felt insufficient.

 

He only hoped that the vision on paper could be replicated onto his body and be done with equal skill, but from the portfolio that he had seen, he had no doubts about her.

 

While he sat and continued to gaze at the sketches, Rey stood and began to shuffle around, prepping her gloves, ink, gun, and marker.

 

“Alright,” she said to him when she was ready, “take your shirt off.”

 

* * *

 

She tried to look away and maintain a semblance of professionalism when he took his shirt off, she truly did, but she failed. 

 

He was facing her but looking away when he grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head in one swift motion. 

 

He was… so much. So broad, so pale, so tattooed. His chest and shoulders were wide and his waist was narrow, his arms were well-defined, and he had  _ abs _ . He didn’t have the type of body that screamed ‘I go to the gym 6 days a week and live off of chicken, rice, and broccoli’ but he did have the type that told Rey he took care of himself. 

 

His tattoos were a maze that she wanted to trace with her gaze, but before she could he was turning, and she was snapped back to her job. 

 

“Right.” She could do this. She was a professional. She had worked on men and women who were more attractive than Kylo Ren, and she wouldn’t be distracted by him.

 

“I was thinking of putting the head closer to your left shoulder. Here.” With the butt of her marker she reached upwards to tap his upper back, just to the left of his spine. 

 

“Yeah, me too.” His voice had gone lower, more quiet. 

 

“And it would follow this path.” From the spot that she tapped she traced an s-shaped line, veering towards the right side of his back so it ended around his right hip. “Did you decide what you want to do with the wings?”

 

“Keep them, but have them tucked. What were you thinking for main colour for the dragon?”

 

“Green,” Rey answered. “I thought it would contrast most with the reds and blues in the background.”

 

“That’s what I had been thinking, too.” 

 

“Ok, great.” She took a deep breath. Popping the cap off of her marker with her teeth, she held it in her mouth while she began to draw herself a general shape in sweeping red lines. 

 

“Alright, lie down on the table for me and we’ll get started.”

 

Kylo obeyed, lying stomach down and tilting his head away from her. She rolled her chair up to the side of the table, dipped her gun in ink, placed her foot on the pedal, and began.

 

* * *

 

Both Kylo and Rey knew the protocol for tattoo conversation. Why are you getting this design? What do you do for work? Do you live around here? The sort of generic questions that kept the process from feeling awkward while they were jammed together for hours. Sometimes the clients grew chatty and stole the direction of the conversations, sometimes they jammed in their headphones and went silent for hours. 

 

The latter was Kylo’s favourite kind of client, the sort that would leave him in peace to work. Often when he got his own tattoos he put headphones in so he could try and focus on the music instead of the pains and sensations. Anyways, it was always awkward trying to talk to someone when you were lying on a table. 

 

But this time, it felt wrong to put in headphones and fall silent. Maybe because he didn’t want to set that sort of precedent for a multi-visit piece, or maybe because he wanted to learn about Rey, who had unceremoniously thrust herself into his life. 

 

So, after ten minutes of tattooing, he tested the waters of conversation.“Where did you grow up?” he asked. 

 

“You don’t have to fake conversation with me if you don’t want to.”  

 

“Call me curious,” he responded. “It’s the accent.”

 

“Well, I grew up in London. Came here the moment I turned 18.”

 

“Was it a big adjustment?”

 

He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the elbows that were resting high on his back moving, like she was shrugging. “A big city is a big city. But a fresh start felt good.”

 

“Did you go to school here?”

 

“No, just started working. What about you? What’s your story?”

 

The abrupt answers and quick topic change told him that she wasn’t interested in talking about her past, which he respected. “I grew up in Brooklyn. I’ve always been a New York man.”

 

“You live in Brooklyn now?”

 

“No, midtown east. I like living on the island, I’m right in the middle of things here.”

 

“I live in Jersey,” she told him. “I’m close to the action without having to deal with the crowds or the New York prices.”

 

“You’re a Jersey girl? That’s rough.”

 

“Well not all of us can live in midtown east.” Her tone was light and teasing.

 

“Maybe this explains your taste in music. Only someone from Jersey would listen to this. Are those… trombones? Trumpets? Is this a marching band?”

 

“And what do you listen to that’s  _ so  _ much better?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Metal, mostly.”

 

“Oh, so you prefer to listen to people banging together kitchenware and screaming at the top of their lungs?”

 

“At least they can actually play the guitar instead of strumming the strings like a five-year-old.”

 

“You know, if you’re going to keep complaining I can grab one of Luke’s CDs and we can listen to some Bob Marley instead.”

 

Kylo went silent, the loose humour in his body being replaced by tension. His tone was cold when he said, “No Luke jokes.”

 

“Sorry,” was her gentle response, before they lapsed into silence.

 

* * *

 

Her album finished, and the shop was filled with a silence that had become even deeper since she had fucked up with her joke twenty minutes prior.

 

“Alright, let’s see if this is better.” She paused the tattoo to scroll through her phone, selecting Coheed and Cambria. It was the closest to metal she ever listened to. 

 

His body twitched with a jolt of a laugh. “Yeah, I can work with this.”

 

“So… why a dragon?”

 

His shoulders flopped in shrug made awkward by his hands resting beneath his face. “Dragons are an image of strength and power. We both fear and revere them, even though they’re mythical.”

 

“Good answer,” she responded with a faint laugh. “So, you mentioned this is Tolkien inspired. Are you a Tolkien fan?”

 

“Oh, absolutely,” he responded. He flopped his head over so he could observe her out of the corner of his eye. She had been working for about an hour straight so far, and was starting to move closer to his mid-back. “The books were revolutionary when I was a kid.”

 

Rey laughed softly. “Me too. I remember that I had this battered copy of The Lord of the Rings that I brought with me everywhere and just read again and again.”

 

“I liked The Hobbit, but it just wasn’t the same as Lord of the Rings for me.”

 

“And, oh, The Hobbit movies are just atrocious.”

 

“I know!” He laughed aloud, louder than she had heard from him before. It was a deep and joyful sound. “The Lord of the Rings was one of the best trilogies in film and they followed it up with CGI-laden garbage.”

 

It was odd, but Rey felt a little lighter having something to relate to with Kylo. “Is that why you decided not to just blatantly get a Smaug tattoo?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. I couldn’t have a tattoo that had any association with those movies.”

 

“Ok, other than Lord of the Rings, what are your favourite movies?”

 

From there, the conversation flew as freely as river water. They discussed their favourite movies, TV shows, and eventually books. They shared very few favourites other than Lord of the Rings; Rey enjoyed few things more than a good crime story, while Kylo complained that they were too boring, he needed something with action. They then began to swap stories about their worst tattoo clients, those with smelly feet or absurd requests that could never be made into a tattoo, those that argued with them about the best way to approach a piece. 

 

It was refreshing for Rey to have someone who understood. Luke understood, yes, but he had been tattooing for so long that he was prepared to handle any situation with ease. Kylo still remembered the days of being a young and scared apprentice when a client challenged them about the quality of the work produced or the way that the sketch looked. 

 

He was an excellent sitter, too. He didn’t smoke either, so they went for almost two hours straight at the start before Rey called a drink break and Kylo went to the corner store to grab iced teas for both of them. By that time it was nine o’clock, so Rey locked the door behind him and continued working while they chatted easily about their favourite restaurants in New York.

 

“Shit, I can’t believe it’s 10:30 already. How are you feeling?”

 

“A little tender,” he admitted. “It has been three and a half hours.”

 

“I’m almost done the outline anyways, just need to finish the tail.” Rey had picked up Luke’s habit of keeping her face close to the tattoo while she worked, and with the tail ending low on Kylo’s hip she nearly had her face stuffed into his ass while he worked. 

 

“You have a gentle hand.”

 

“Thank you. I remember I got one of my foot pieces done by a Russian guy who was the most heavy handed artist I’ve ever worked with, and after than I focused on being as light handed as possible so I would never make people have to suffer like that.”

 

“Some of my clients fly in and we have to get eight hour pieces done in one session, so I’ve learned to be as light handed as possible so they can make it through.”

 

“Maybe I’ll have to have you tattoo me one day so I can see how you do.” She said it jokingly, but realized that she  _ did _ want him to tattoo her. He was immensely talented, and this session had shown that he was much easier to talk to than she expected and she could handle eight hours in his chair. 

 

“I think we could arrange that.” His tone was meant to be light but she could detect something dark there, too. Something that felt like want. She paused, her hand floating above him, to collect herself before continuing.

 

“I’d better be getting a discount after having to spend so much time around your ass.”

 

He openly laughed at that, any darkness in his tone passing so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. 

 

She sat back, stretching her arms over her head. Her hand was on fire from holding the gun for so long consecutively. “I think that’s good for today, do you want to see?” She dove into a drawer and pulled up a hand mirror for him. He stood, approaching her floor length mirror, and held up the hand mirror so he could see his reflection.

 

“Wow.” His jaw dropped. “This is… wow.” He took a step back so he was closer to the mirror. “It’s incredible. Truly, Rey.”

 

“You’re happy with it?”

 

He looked up from the mirror to smile at her; it was the brightest smile of his she had seen. Suddenly he appeared younger and less world-weary, his smile crooked and his dark eyes sparking. “Absolutely.”

 

“Ok great, let’s get you wrapped up.”

 

She made quick work of wrapping up the new tattoo before he gingerly slipped his shirt on over it. 

 

“Want to come back in four weeks today? That’ll be September 8th. You can come in at 7:30.”

 

“That would be perfect.” He put down a 50% deposit on the tattoo before Rey unlocked the door for him and he exited into the now-darkness, a wave of hot air entering the shop in his wake.

 

Feeling dazed, Rey gave the shop one last sweep-up before she went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The closest reference piece I could find for Kylo's tattoo was a sketch of the head here: https://www.instagram.com/p/BdflmCwj6RF/
> 
> I also recently found this artist who has a style similar to what I imagined for Phasma: https://www.instagram.com/jacobcrookedmoon/
> 
> And this is sort of what I imagined Kylo's style as: https://www.instagram.com/stevebutchertattoos/


	10. Chapter 10

It was 8am on a Saturday and Finn and Rey were at the starting line for a half marathon in Central Park, cheering out Poe’s name. He went past them in a flash, his expression already set in determination, his hair held back with a sweatband and a pack around his waist holding his gels. 

 

“Alright,” Rey said once Poe had passed out of sight, “what do we do now?”

 

“Well we have about an hour and a half before we should get back here, want to go grab a coffee?”

 

Rey shrugged. “Alright.”

 

It was cooler than previous weeks had been, although by no means was it a cool day, so Rey was back in her usual jeans. She had opted to skip her makeup since, as it was, she had barely made it out of bed that morning.

 

At a leisurely pace they headed straight south out of the park. Rey was still half-asleep but the sharp city air began to wake her up, a gentle breeze blowing the hair out of her face. 

 

“Wait.” She stopped in front a familiar building, and Finn stopped and looked back, curious.

 

“What is it?”

 

She pointed upwards to the awning. “It’s First Order Tattoo.”

 

It was closed, of course; few tattoo shops opened before 10am, especially on weekends. It was pitch black inside, the bit of light that could have entered from outside being blocked by the tinted windows. Rey was wearing a faint smile as she looked at it, the sort of smile someone wore when finding an awful old mix CD they made in high school.

 

Truth be told, Rey had avoided First Order since being rejected from it. That rejection had wounded her more than the dozens of subsequent ones, and she had been hurt by Kylo’s bitter tone at the time.

 

Four years and a job offer, successful apprenticeship, and budding career later, she found that she no longer feared or resented the place. It was just that -- a place of business, a tattoo shop like hers, with its own share of dysfunctions and triumphs. Having Kylo be  _ her _ client took away the mystique and apprehension associated with First Order. It reminded her that he was human, just like her, and that he made mistakes and bad judgment calls.

 

“You know, I remember it being bigger when I was here last.”

 

Finn smiled fondly at her. “You know, when I was in London last, I went past our old high school. Back when we were there, when it was filled with bullies who tortured me and kids who stood by and wouldn’t say a thing, it felt like the biggest building in the world. A big, omniscient place of torture.” He took a step closer to her. “But going back, no longer being a prisoner of that place, made it so much smaller. A bit prettier, too.”

 

“I guess it’s all perspective, isn’t it?” She asked with a laugh. “Come on, I’m going to collapse on the spot if I don’t get a coffee soon.”

 

They meandered a few blocks further until they found a Starbucks, already bustling in the early morning hour. Finn ordered a caramel macchiato with whip, and Rey had an iced coffee. They managed to score a window seat so they could watch passersby from the comfort of the air conditioning.

 

“I’ve been thinking of going to London, to visit my parents,” Finn said. “And I’m thinking of bringing Poe.”

 

Rey smiled at that. “They would like that. So would Poe.”

 

With a bout of nervous laughter he said, “I’ve never brought anyone home before. What if they don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like them?”

 

She reached across the table, feeling the grit of sugar beneath her hand, and took Finn’s. “Poe is a wonderful man and he makes you happy, so if nothing else they’ll like him for that. Plus he can charm the pants off of anyone so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Finn laughed gently. “And your parents are lovely, kind people. If they’re half as kind to Poe as they were to me then he’ll love them.”

 

It was true. Finn’s adoptive parents had taken her under their wing for the two years that Finn’s family had lived in London, letting her sleep over any time she needed a break from her foster family and providing her with countless hearty dinners, insisting that she leave with no fewer than four containers filled with leftovers. They worked hard, she knew, and moved often for work, but they still gave Finn unconditional love, the type that she wished she could have received from any of her foster parents. 

 

“Thanks Peanut, you always know how to make me feel better.” 

 

Their drinks finished, they began to make their way back to Central Park so they could find Poe at the finish line.

 

“Do you want to come with us? To London?”

 

“No,” Rey answered quickly. It wasn’t because of funds, she could afford a trip now. But that place from her childhood -- it was a place she wasn’t ready to confront yet. It wouldn’t be like First Order, she knew, where she would be able to put the hurt aside and see it as just a city. There was too much pain everywhere she looked, too many foul memories that reminded her of a time in her life that she desperately wanted to put behind herself. Besides, she had no family there and her only friend was the one walking beside her, in a happier place and a happier life. 

 

“Sorry, I --” Finn stammered out.

 

Gently, she smiled at him. “Don’t apologize. It’s just… there’s nothing for me there. New York is home now.”

 

And it was. It smelled on most days, of garbage and concrete and metal. There were too few trees and too many people. The lights never seemed to turn off and she hadn’t seen the night sky in as long as she could remember.

 

But -- it was home, flaws and all. 

 

Back at the Park, she and Finn cheered for Poe as he crossed that finish line, so exhausted that he collapsed into Finn’s arms at the end and vomited into the grass before Finn force-fed him water. 

 

An hour later over celebratory brunch, Finn asked Poe, “Do you want to go to London with me and meet my parents?”

 

To Rey’s great pleasure, Poe gleefully responded, “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

September 8th arrived so quickly that Rey was shocked when she checked her appointment calendar for the day and saw that Kylo Ren was booked in. It wasn’t that she had forgotten, she thought of his piece often, but she had simply been so busy she had been living day-by-day. 

 

One of her pieces had been featured on a Buzzfeed article chronicling artists to watch in the city; immediately, her Instagram followers had quadrupled and the phone was ringing off the hook for appointments. While she was usually booked up for three weeks to a month in advance, she was now booked up completely until December, save for a late night Monday slot in October she reserved for Kylo. With her books completely full and more requests to respond to, her work days were longer and she spent more of her home time answering emails and messages, giving her little free time. It was a dream, but an exhausting one. 

 

Kylo arrived a few minutes early for his appointment, just minutes after Rey had finished her last, and as a result she was still cleaning her station when he arrived.

 

“Hey, Kylo,” she called across the shop as she wiped down her chair. “Can you lock the door behind you and flip the sign to closed?”

 

“Isn’t it early?” he asked while following her directions.

 

“Buzzfeed found me,” she told him through harried breaths as she scurried across the shop to wipe down her desk and clear her ink pots. “Walk-ins have been through the roof and they’re going to flip if they see you here.”

 

“You sure? It’s good publicity.”

 

“It’s enough publicity already, I’ll be overwhelmed with more.”

 

“Hmm.” His hands stuffed into the pockets of his artfully-torn jeans, he wandered into the back of the shop. “Don’t get to a million Instagram followers, then. It’s mayhem.”

 

“Do you handle it all by yourself?” she asked with wonder. “I’m at twenty thousand now and I can’t handle all the DMs.”

 

“I have an assistant. He works part-time from home and answers all of my DMs and emails and forwards me any potential bookings. I can give you his number.”

 

She laughed warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“I’m happy for you.” His tone was soft, and she looked up from her desk to smile at him softly. “It’s a lot to take on, I know, but you deserve the recognition.”

 

“Why are you so much nicer to me now that you respect my work?”

 

She hadn’t meant to say it, she truly hadn’t. She should have been kind and gracious and said ‘thank you’. But instead, her overly honest mouth was running off of its own accord again.

 

His jaw set immediately, and his response was cold. “Why do you think you can just ask me a question like that?”

 

“Because you like my work too much to walk out on me. And I have the feeling that no one else has asked you and someone needs to.”

 

For a long stretch he was silent, eyes following her as she laid down a fresh sheet of paper and chugged a can of Coke.

 

“I don’t know why,” he answered finally, before taking a seat on the table and pulling his shirt off again. “My childhood wasn’t exactly filled with lessons on respect, I suppose.”

 

“Why not?” 

 

Kylo let out a long sigh before he laid down on the table. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

 

“We have three hours together, might as well make the conversation more interesting than ‘what’s your favourite colour’ and ‘what kind of cheese do you like’. You ready?”

 

“Yes,” he responded, and Rey began. “Also, red and Gruyere, for the record.”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

“Fine. But I expect to hear more from you than ‘I grew up in London and it was a city’.”

 

“Fair enough.” 

 

* * *

 

Kylo took a deep breath before he began. “My family was well-off but dysfunctional. My mother was the CEO of a large software company and my father was a pilot. My mother lived at the office and my father spent most of his time in the air so I was raised mostly by a nanny.”

 

“You’re an only child?”

 

“That’s me, lonely and spoiled.”

 

“Did you go to college?”

 

Kylo laughed. “No. Oh, my mother wanted me to, very badly, but it wasn’t for me. I was never a good student, I was too busy causing trouble. Art was the only thing that I truly loved and I knew I’d make my career in it, one way or another.”

 

“I can understand that. Art helped me through some difficult years.”

 

Warmth filled his heart at her words, knowing that she felt the same way as him. “Me too. I was constantly landing myself in detention and I would just draw, every time. In my high school, art was held in this big room tucked away in the basement. It was cold and concrete but it was my favourite place in the school.” He remembered so many details of that room, even to this day: the mish-mash of desks that always changed arrangement depending on the day, the canvases that leaned against every free wall, the table covered in balls of sculpture putty. It always smelled strongly of paint and acetone, and in the summer they’d open the fire exit tucked in the corner of the room to let fresh air in. 

 

Kylo had been… not the most popular student in school. Some students would try to befriend him because his family was wealthy, but he quickly saw through them. The others teased him for his big ears, his crooked nose, his puffy lips, his height and lanky build. The worst ones would tease him about his art and the fact that he spent all of his time in “the dungeon” and it was why he was so pale. His only fond memories in school were in that room, and he suspected that was one of the reasons why he never went to college: he wouldn’t put himself through four more years of that hell.

 

“I went to a few high schools, but the one where I spent the last couple of years had the smallest art room,” Rey said with a laugh. “It was a complete afterthought, I think it was meant to be a broom closet but they forgot that art was in the curriculum. Did you ever watch Magic School Bus?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“My art teacher was like Miss Frizzle. Even though she had to teach in the worst conditions, she had the most sunny disposition I’ve ever seen, and she wore these dresses you could have seen on a kindergartener. I joined the art club and we’d stay late after school so she could teach us to sculpt, and screen print, and use watercolours.”

 

“You said you went to a few high schools. Did you move a lot?” Kylo asked.

 

“Yes. One of the downsides of the foster system is it’s hard to put roots down.”

 

Kylo immediately felt a wave of guilt that his upbringing had been so privileged and hers had been the opposite; furthermore, he had complained to her about his. “That doesn’t sound easy.”

 

“It wasn’t. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.”

 

That earlier guilt was mixed with respect, as he realized that from such a difficult upbringing she had utilized her talent to build a career. A career which could have been started earlier and been better than it was if he hadn’t been such an asshole. “Right,” he muttered. He suddenly had an urge to change the subject, and he asked her in a lighter tone, “so, what’s your favourite colour and what cheese do you like?”

 

She pulled the gun away from him to laugh openly. “Green. And don’t get me started about cheese, I could write a soliloquy for brie.”

 

“Well, let’s hear it then.”

 

“Oh! Brie. So creamy and so sharp. Melted on a sandwich or spread on a cracker.”

 

And so they waxed poetic about cheese for an hour, and Kylo couldn’t remember laughing so hard in his life.

 

* * *

 

“So my schedule is madness right now, but could you come in October 6th?” They had made good progress that day, finishing most of the shading on the head, and it was deep into night now. Truth be told, she had been so enthralled by their conversation and mesmerized by her work that she had forgotten to check the time.

 

“Damn, I’m going to be in Reykjavik. How about the week after?”

 

“Reykjavik? That sounds incredible, I’ve always wanted to go to Iceland.”

 

“This is my third time going, there’s a shop there that brings me in for guest spots. I’ve had the chance to see many places, but Iceland is my favourite.”

 

“What’s it like?” she asked, resting her chin in her hand with her elbow on the desk. It was odd, but she was disappointed that they were done for the day. She could have just talked to him for hours, and frankly, not since Finn had she connected so easily with anyone.

 

She wondered if Kylo was gay. 

 

“Cold, if you go in the winter,” he told her with a laugh. “But if you go in the summer, it’s surreal. The second time I went was in the spring and I got to see the Northern Lights. They have natural hot springs and the most beautiful mountains. And it smells… fresh. Untouched by industry.”

 

She shook her head to clear it and smiled before turning to her appointment book. “You can tell me more about it next visit. And those other places you’ve visited, too.” She drummed her fingers against her lips. “I could maybe squeeze you in on October 13th, but I’ll have to see if I can move my 5pm up. Can I call you tomorrow to let you know?”

 

Kylo grabbed one of her business cards and a pen and scribbled his number down on the back. “It’s best if you text my cell, I get so many calls at the shop that they filter right through them and I won’t answer my cell if you call when I’m working.”

 

“Great.” She smiled brightly at him and held tightly onto the card. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 chapters in and they haven't even held hands yet and y'all are still reading because you're saints, I swear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Casual drug use. Honestly this is gonna apply to most chapters.  
> CW: There is a mention of Kylux in this chapter, but only in the context of them ending a casual fling. If that is triggering or otherwise disagreeable, this chapter isn't necessary for the context of the story so you can skip it.

Fuck, he had woken up with Hux beside him again.

 

Why did they always do this to themselves, tumble into each other’s beds? They were awful together. They would fight over something inconsequential, often about work, and then they would have hate sex. 

 

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Kylo sighed, knowing exactly why they kept doing this to themselves: they were both lonely and prickly. 

 

When he forced his gummy eyes open, he found that Hux had rolled out of bed and was slipping into his pants, kicking aside an empty bottle of wine. 

 

Right. Somewhere between the fight (was it over ink brands?) and the sex, they had shared a few of those. 

 

Hux was speaking to him, he realized, his voice sliding into focus through the fog of Kylo’s exhaustion and steadily appearing hangover. “This is the last time we’ll be doing this.”

 

Kylo snorted. They had said that statement to each other a handful of times, and here they were, again and again. “Why’s it different this time?”

 

“I’m asking Phasma to be exclusive.”

 

That made Kylo sit up abruptly, the sheet falling away from his chest to pool in his lap, his head spinning and his stomach lurching as he did so. Was he dreaming? “You and Phasma are dating?”

 

“Since LA, yes. And don’t worry about it being awkward at work, she knows about you.”

 

Kylo rubbed his eyes furiously. “Why the fuck did you tell her? And… why the hell did you two decide to date  _ now _ ? You’ve been working together for fucking six  _ years _ .”

 

Hux fixed a hard gaze on him. In that moment, Kylo had a rare glimpse of Hux looking less like he was in the fucking army: his normally slicked back hair was loose and tousled, forming the faintest waves around his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. He would be so much more handsome if he didn’t look so constantly pissed off and actually tried to sleep once in his life. “Phasma likes me.” That pissed off expression slipped away just slightly, lifting one corner of his mouth. “She’s… sweet. It just took us seeing each other outside of work, alone, to… change our perceptions.” 

 

“You’re serious?” Hux flushed, a faint pink tinting his cheeks. “Wait, you’re serious. You and Phasma are going to date. She knows about this --” Kylo gestured to the air between them “--and she’s ok.”

 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes.”

 

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Fucking hell.” From his bedside drawer he pulled out a joint and light it with a flick of his Zippo, drawing in a deep breath. “I… wish the best for you both.” His words were stiff but earnest. He  _ did  _ wish the best for the two of them; in their own twisted ways, they were all a combination of coworkers and friends, who apparently had formed an awkward triangle that Kylo was being summarily ejected from.

 

“See you tomorrow, Kylo. Enjoy your day off.”

 

Hux exited the bedroom, and moments later, the apartment. Meanwhile Kylo dragged on the joint until his stomach settled.

 

Standing up out of bed, fully undressed, he rifled through the clothes discarded on the floor to find his phone stuffed in his jeans pocket. It was 10:30am already, and he only had one unread text.

 

_ \--242-888-4589 10:04 _

_ Kylo, it’s Rey. Just wanted to let you know I moved my 5pm so you can come in on Oct 13th. _

 

As soon as he saw her name, his stomach performed an uncomfortable flip that he knew had nothing to do with his receding hangover. After adding her as a contact into his phone, he typed an immediate response.

 

_ \--Kylo 10:37 _

_ Rey, _

_ Thanks for getting back to me. I’ll see you on the 13th. Should I come in at 7 again? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:38 _

_ 7 is good. PS you text like an old man. _

 

_ \--Kylo 10:40 _

_ Rey, _

_ That’s probably because I am old.  _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:42 _

_ See you on the 13th, old man. _

 

He smiled at his phone screen before he plugged it in and placed it on his bedside table. As he began to walk into his kitchen to start a pot of coffee, he was hit with an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome thought: he wished it had been Rey he had woken up next to.

 

He shook his head to clear it. She was talented, and not unpleasant to look at, but she was  _ Luke’s apprentice _ . He didn’t want to bed with the enemy. Furthermore, she was far too self-entitled, thinking she could challenge him.

 

Even though a small part of himself had enjoyed when she did.

 

He began to pour a cup of coffee, vowing to put thoughts of Rey well outside of his mind.

 

* * *

 

The streetlights cast heavy shadows as Rey walked from the subway station home, wearing a faint smile. It had been a good day at work, all of her appointments being clients that were easy to get along with and she had even finished 15 minutes early. She and Finn had plans to split a bottle of wine and watch The Room when she got home.

 

It wasn’t a terrible way to spend her twenty-third birthday, not by a long shot. Compared to most of her other birthdays, she couldn’t ask for more, really.

 

She jogged up the stairs to her apartment, slotting the key in the lock while humming to herself as the door swung open --

 

“SURPRISE!”

 

Rey was immediately overwhelmed, and she was unsure if she was truly seeing what was before her.

 

It was a surprise party. For her. 

 

Before she could stop herself, tears began to well up in her eyes. Finn and Poe were there, rushing forward to hug her. Rose was there too, and Poe’s friends Jess and Snap. They had strung streamers around her ceiling and there was even a sign that read “Happy Birthday!” in rainbow lettering across the doorway to her bedroom. Her kitchen table was set up with all of her favourite treats: an assortment of cheese, crackers, and jams; tea and biscuits, for her English sensibilities; salt and vinegar chips; and a red velvet birthday cake, topped with cream cheese icing.

 

The tears had begun to cascade down her cheeks before she could stop them. No one, in her life, had done anything this kind for her. Never had she imagined having friends as sweet and loving as the ones who surrounded her, pulling her into hugs so they could mutter “happy birthday” into her hair. 

 

Rey remembered birthdays when she was young. They were never celebrated affairs when she was in foster homes or group homes, and had most often been a day like any other. But this year… no one had ever thrown a party for  _ her _ before. And here they were, her small but beloved group of friends, throwing her a  _ surprise birthday party _ .

 

How had she gotten so lucky?

 

Poe pulled out a bottle of wine and Snap selected the music; it was a classic rock band, one of those songs Rey recognized but didn’t know the artist, even though she knew she should. While Rey made a plate for herself, Poe poured her a hearty glass of wine and the group began to gravitate back towards the couch. 

 

Rey remained quiet, tucked into the corner of the couch as she listened to the joyful chatter around her, warmth radiating out of her chest. Jess told horror stories from her restaurant; Rose, who worked as a mechanic at a dealership, told them about a car that came in where the tires had literally worn down to the belts; Poe shared stories of pilot’s school. 

 

“So Rey,” Jess said to her as she reached for the bottle of wine to refill her glass. Beside her, Poe was dexterously rolling a joint while Finn rested his head on Poe’s shoulder, a contented smile on his face. “Poe told me you’ve been working on a big piece for Kylo Ren?”

 

“You know him?” 

 

Jess shrugged. “I’ve seen his work on Instagram. He’s crazy good.”

 

“He is.”

 

“It must be awesome doing a tattoo for someone who’s so good.”

 

Rey’s gaze turned to the ground and she smiled faintly. “I never thought of it like that. But yeah.”

 

“What’s he like? I heard he’s an asshole.”

 

Snap tapped Rey on the shoulder and she accepted the joint he passed her. “A bit, sometimes.” Jess laughed. “But not always. He’s not so bad, really. Just a bit entitled.”

 

And he wasn’t, Rey knew. Being an asshole was a bit of a farce, she thought, a shield to add allure to his skill. But she saw beyond that, to the good man who had perhaps been given a bit too much in his life.

 

Rey drank a few more glasses of wine before she actually looked at a clock and saw it was 1am and she should get some damn sleep before work tomorrow. 

 

Standing, she said, “It’s officially no longer my birthday, and I love you but I’m kicking you all out.”

 

She took a quick shower and slipped into bed to be enveloped by her warm sheets. Her body was exhausted but her head was spinning with excitement and drink, so she pulled her phone out. 

 

Other than a few ‘happy birthday’ texts this morning, the last person to text her had been Kylo.

 

_ Kylo. _

 

Rey wasn’t always the best decision maker and she knew it. She was often rash and let her mouth run away ahead of her thoughts, and it had gotten her into trouble more than once. Maybe it was that rash nature that made her pull up their conversation and begin to type a message, but if it was, this decision didn’t feel rash or wrong. 

 

_ \--Rey 1:49am _

_ I really like tattooing you. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> So... I am alive, and I'm not abandoning this. But I have been coping with the loss of a loved one and haven't been able to write as a result.  
> This chapter is a few quick and silly text exchanges between Kylo and Rey as a reminder that I love them and I love y'all, and hopefully it'll get those creative juices flowing.

_ \--Rey 1:49am _

_ I really like tattooing you. _

 

_ \--Kylo 7:04am _

_ I enjoy being tattooed by you. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Kylo 7:05am _

_ Except when you go over my spine. Then I hate it. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 8:02am _

_ Baby. _

 

_ \--Kylo 8:05am _

_ Don’t call me a baby. Have you ever had your spine tattooed? It’s awful. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 8:07am _

_ Have you seen my back piece before?  _

 

_ \--Rey 8:07am _

_ [img attached: treebackpiece.jpg] _

 

_ \--Rey 8:08am _

_ I’m pretty sure I know how it feels to get your spine tattooed. _

 

_ \--Kylo 8:12am _

_ I suppose I am a baby. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Kylo 8:13am _

_ I also have to admit I’m surprise you’re up so early after such a late night. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 8:24am _

_ Told you so. _

 

_ \--Rey 8:24am _

_ It was my bday yesterday so I was up late. And I have an early morning consult today. So here I am.  _

 

_ \--Kylo 8:39am _

_ Happy birthday to you. How old are you now? 16? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 8:51am _

_Very funny._ _Don’t be jealous because I’m not old like you. Or that I can tattoo better than you can and I’m only 23._

 

_ \--Kylo 8:53am _

_ Don’t take advantage of my kindness because I’ve apologized to you.  _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 8:55am _

_ So you’re admitting I’m better than you? _

 

_ \--Kylo 8:56am _

_ No comment. _

_ Kylo _

 

* * *

__

 

_ \--Rey 11:02pm _

_ You wouldn’t believe what happened today. _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:03pm _

_ Oh? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 11:07pm _

_ A guy was getting a small piece done for his first, a Mickey Mouse on his shoulder. He was quiet and hyperventilating when I started, and within a few mins asked me to take a break and I noticed he was going white. I started again when I said he was ready, and he passed out!  _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:07pm _

_ Fainters are the worst. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 11:09pm _

_ It gets worse! When he passed out he fell onto me, and he wasn’t a small guy. Knocked me off my chair and landed right on me. I was by myself and had to CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT TO GET RESCUED.  _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:10pm _

_ I am so sorry. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:10pm _

_ I am also laughing right now. I can’t believe you had to call the fire department.  _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:11pm _

_ I was going to tell you about the customer who vomited on me but I think your story wins. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 11:13pm _

_ I’m never taking on a tattoo virgin again. _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:15pm _

_ I’ll try not to faint on you at our next session. _

_ Kylo _

 

* * *

__

 

_ \--Kylo 3:14am _

_ Greetings from Iceland! I woke up early to see the sunrise here. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Kylo 3:15am _

_ [img attached: waterfall.jpg] _

 

_ \--Rey 8:30am _

_ [img attached: rainyday.jpg] _

 

_ \--Rey 8:30am _

_ I hate you right now. _

 

_ \--Kylo 10:02am _

_ I’m tattooing someone famous today. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:03am _

_ WHO _

 

_ \--Kylo 10:04am _

_ It’s a secret. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:05am _

_ TELL ME _

 

_ \--Kylo 10:05am _

_ I can’t. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:06am _

_ TELL ME  _

 

_ \--Rey 11:14am _

_ TELL ME _

 

_ \--Rey 1:08pm _

_ TELL ME _

 

_ \--Rey 2:15pm _

_ You’re the worst. _

 

_ \--Kylo 4:40pm _

_ I know.  _

_ Kylo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a guessing game on who the celebrity is!   
> Also Rey's back piece is a tree that covers her from spine to neck right across the middle of her back -- so entirely along her spine. Yeah, ouch.


	13. Chapter 13

“Shit, shit, shit.”

 

Rey dashed across the shop, arms loaded with ink, paper, and books, trying to pull together some semblance of tidiness. If Luke saw the shop’s current state, he would kill her; or, even worse, be disappointed in her. 

 

Her day had just been completely non-stop. Between her full booking of clients and handling all the walk-ins and phone calls, other than the necessary sanitation between clients she hadn’t had time to clean up after herself that day and the shop was an absolute disaster. Kylo would be arriving any moment and she had to tidy all her things, clean the floors, wipe the counters, water the plants --

 

As if summoned by her thoughts, Kylo’s entry was announced by the joyful clinging of the doorbell, a sharp contrast to the rumbling downpour outside. 

 

“Evening, Kylo!” she called out as she dashed between Luke’s chair and her own, cleaning her sketches off of his desk. Truly, Luke would murder her if he walked in at that moment. 

 

“Hey, Rey.” Kylo’s tone was gentle, and she had to hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. 

 

She didn’t want to admit how  _ good _ it was to hear his voice.

 

She didn’t want to admit that she wanted the shop to be clean for Kylo as much as for Luke.

 

She didn’t want to admit that she had been looking forward to today.

 

But not wanting to admit to those feelings didn’t stop her from feeling them. They had been texting for weeks now, and talking to him brought her a comfort that she hadn’t expected.

 

But he was a  _ client _ . And a famous one at that. One which most likely had a girlfriend, or boyfriend, waiting at home for him and if Rey was uninhibited enough to do something as absurd as ask him out on a date he would laugh in her face and then go home to his partner and laugh with them.

 

But this tenuous friendship that had developed, in spite of his asshole-like nature when they had first met and whatever was going on between Kylo and Luke... perhaps that was something they could do. 

 

She could live with that.

 

It wasn’t that she yearned for a partner. On the contrary, the thought of becoming intimate with someone terrified her. She just felt out of control of her hormones, or brain, or whatever it was that made her heart flutter and her palms sweat whenever she saw him or whenever that little word “Kylo” pop up on her phone. 

 

“Do you mind if I get changed?” he called to her. 

 

_ Pull yourself together, Rey.  _

 

“Of course,” she called back. “The loo is to your right.”

 

For the first time, she looked up from her tidying to see him. His skin was slick with rainwater and his dark hair was clinging to his forehead and cheeks. Slinging his bag off his shoulder, he turned to hang up his worn leather jacket on the pegs near the door. She saw that the rain had soaked through his jacket to his black t-shirt, causing it to cling closely to his form. Every time she saw him, she forgot how damn broad his shoulders were, even though around her he was most often shirtless.

 

He disappeared into the washroom and she turned back to her tidying, attempting to separate her ink from Luke’s while balancing her sketches in the crook of her arm. She let out a loud string of curses when one of the bottles slipped out of her hand and crashed onto the floor. Like a pool of blood red ink spilled across the linoleum, seeping along the lines between the tiles.

 

“Shit!”

 

Rey frantically placed her sketches on a table before scurrying into the back room to grab a roll of paper towels to attempt to blot away the majority of the mess. 

 

“Let me help you with that.”

 

Her gaze flickered up when Kylo appeared and crouched beside her, pulling a handful of paper towels off of the roll so he could help her blot.

 

He was wearing  _ glasses. _

 

They were black and thick-rimmed, shaped a bit like Ray-Bans. He had pulled his damp hair back into a bun, emphasizing his angular features and his ears. 

 

The sight made her swallow audibly.

 

She  _ liked _ men in glasses. She couldn’t explain why, but she just… did. It was like how some men liked women’s feet, or how Finn told her he really liked Poe’s chest hair. It made Kylo look like a sexy librarian, or Clark Kent. 

 

“I’ll go get some… cleaner…” Rey hurried into the back room, taking a deep breath to attempt to ease the redness that flared on her cheeks. 

 

“Pull yourself together,” she whispered to herself before returning to the main room, where Kylo was still crouched down, blotting at the ink. She took her place beside him and began to spray the floor, looking anywhere but at him. 

 

“So you… wear glasses?” she asked lamely, cursing herself when her voice cracked. 

 

“They’re awful, I know,” he grumbled, seeming nonplussed by her tension. “I did an eight hour piece today and I couldn’t stand the contacts anymore.”

 

“Right. Well, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”  _ Good one, Rey.  _ “You can wear your glasses here any time.”  _ Real fucking smooth.  _

 

Kylo laughed gently, low in his chest. “Thanks, I guess.” He leaned back onto his haunches, assessing the newly cleaned floor. “There, looks good as new.”

 

“Thank you. For your help.”

 

“Of course.” He smiled slyly at her, and she had to quickly look away to keep her heart from pounding audibly. 

 

“Right. Well. Hmm.” She cleared her throat. “Let me get tidied up and we’ll get started for today.”

 

* * *

 

That evening, Rey had been quieter than usual while she worked. They had chatted as they always did, but today felt different, somehow. 

 

Kylo suspected it was nervousness, in her hands that trembled when she wiped ink off of him and in her flushed pallour. Or perhaps she was falling ill from being overworked; he had fallen into that trap before himself. 

 

After less than three hours had passed, Kylo suggested to her, “Do you want to make it a short session today?”

 

“Yes,” she said, her voice light with relief. Once she had bandaged him up, he sat up and heard the slap of her rubber gloves being pulled off. When he turned to face her, she turned away, shuffling around a pile of sketches. 

 

While he slipped his shirt over his head, he looked out the shop’s large front window to see the streets plunged into a wet darkness from the ongoing storm. 

 

“Do you drive?” he asked her.

 

She turned to face him, and he saw that her cheeks were still flushed.

 

Perhaps she was getting sick.

 

Or perhaps --

 

No. 

 

It had to be sickness.

 

Unless she was still embarrassed about spilling the ink? 

 

She didn’t seem the type to easily be embarrassed, though. She was too confident, too proud. 

 

For just a moment, he wondered if there was even a sliver of a chance that she was flushed because of  _ him _ .

 

The thought alone made the tip of his own ears turn pink. 

 

“No, I don’t drive,” she responded. “No point, living here. And I’m still not used to cars driving on the wrong side of the road.”

 

“Do you want a ride home?” he rushed out. It was miserable outside, and he figured no one should be out walking in the middle of a thunderstorm, especially if she was falling ill.

 

And if it wasn’t sickness that was making her flush… well, having her in his car would only be a good thing.

 

What the hell was he  _ thinking _ ? This was Luke’s prodigy, to pursue her would be madness.

 

Wouldn’t it?

 

Perhaps it was too late to put stock into sanity. He was well aware of the effect she had on him. Of the way his heart rushed when she smiled and his head felt light when she laughed. Of how her hands burned his skin where she touched him. 

 

If he were a sane man, he would have bid her goodbye after their last appointment, never venturing to see her outside of her shop, never texting her. 

 

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t.

 

Instead of responding, she was only staring at him, mouth agape and flush in her cheeks deepening. “Unless you have a boyfriend or girlfriend to pick you up. I just -- it’s shitty outside.”

 

“It is shitty outside,” she muttered softly. “And no, no boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Not that I’m opposed to either -- I mean, oh God,” she buried her face in her hands, and her stammered words were muffled as she continued. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Rey stood quickly and grabbed a nearby broom, stiffly sweeping the back of the shop to hide her face.

 

“I’m bi.” When Kylo spoke, Rey stopped. “So… now we’re even.”

 

She laughed, a deep belly laugh that made her shoulders shake. “Alright, just give me ten minutes to clean up.”

 

* * *

 

Kylo’s car was huge. It was more of a truck, really. A “G-Wagon” he called it, whatever that meant. Between living in London and New York, Rey had never bothered to learn much about cars, other than how to drive them. But she knew enough to know that his truck was incredibly impractical for life in the city, and she couldn’t imagine parallel parking it. 

 

He was a menace of a driver, though. He honked at everyone and swerved impatiently around stopped cars and went twice the speed limit whenever he could. He had on a Smiths album, which surprised her, but turned it down as soon as she took her seat. His hands, which gripped the steering wheel tightly, were broad and long-fingered; he had stubby fingernails, like he bit them, and graphite stained the tip of his forefinger.

 

Since the Lincoln Tunnel was under construction, they got stuck in a long traffic jam at the Holland Tunnel. She found herself so flustered by the presence of him in his glasses that she had to look away while she attempted to distract him from the long line of cars in front of them. “Are you out?” she asked, the heavy beat of the wipers against the windshield almost drowning out her question.

 

“For the most part,” Kylo responded with a shrug. “Not to my parents, I think my dad would have an aneurysm if I brought a boyfriend home.”

 

“Do you… have a boyfriend? To bring home?” She felt foolish asking the question, but it had been burning in her thoughts for too long for her not to grab at the opportunity.

 

Kylo let out a sharp bark of a laugh in response. “No. Nor a girlfriend. Not for a while.” He paused, but a ghost of a smile lingered on his lips, and the sight made her stomach feel light. “What about you? Are you out?”

 

“I have no family to disappoint, but I’m out to all my friends. I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who didn’t accept me. Anyways, my best friend Finn is gay, so I didn’t exactly have to worry about his reaction.” She paused. “It’s hard at times, though. Straight people call me greedy and gay people call me fake.”

 

Kylo snorted. “I went to Pride, once, and got kicked out of a gay bar for dancing with a woman.”

 

“A girl in high school sprayed ‘whore’ on my locker when I came out to her. She told a group of her friends and they all jumped me.”

 

He turned to her, his brows drawn in sympathy. “People are assholes.”

 

Rey shrugged. “Sometimes. And sometimes parents teach their kids shitty values. It’s not always their fault.”

 

“Hmm.” Kylo turned forward again, inching the car into a toll booth. “I’ve never met anyone who looks at the world the way that you do, Rey.” 

 

She turned to him, and saw him smiling gently at her. 

 

The car suddenly felt very hot.

 

Kylo was… abrasive and volatile, sometimes. But below that, there was something unquestionably sweet about him. It was a trait that came out more and more as she spent time with him.

 

She wondered if he was that way with everyone, or just her.

 

They had broken through the traffic, and she spent the rest of the drive directing him to her apartment building.

 

“This is me,” she said as he slowed the car to a stop, putting on his four-ways. 

 

Rey’s building was an aging highrise, once white but now tinted beige with age. Half the windows had curtains and the other half had blankets. It was imperfect, but it was home.

 

“Thank you for this,” she muttered gently, gripping the door handle.

 

“Yeah,” he replied.  

 

A silence fell over the car; Kylo’s gaze fell on her hand, which seemed unable to just pull the door handle and let herself out.

 

What was she doing?

 

She had a wild urge to take her hand off the handle and place it on his neck instead. He had a tattoo on the left side, a rose, and she imagined her small hand covering part of it and pulling him closer so she could press her lips to his. She imagined he would be soft, and would taste like spearmint gum. 

 

Rey wished she were braver and bolder, someone who would kiss recklessly. But if he rejected her, it could be the end of their working relationship and his tattoo would end unfinished. And it had been so long since she had kissed anyone, been intimate with anyone… was Kylo really the right person for that?

 

So… she didn’t move. And neither did he. Neither spoke, and the air was heavy with their shared silence, the only sounds the soft rumble of his idling engine, the susurration of the rain against his sunroof, and Morrissey crooning quietly. 

 

Breaking the silence, she murmured, “I’ll… see you in November then.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

With a numb hand she opened the door and shut it behind her, closing out Kylo behind the tinted window. He didn’t wait for her to go to the door, immediately speeding off into the darkness.

 

Turning her face up into the rainfall, she muttered to no one in particular, “Fuck.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank J, who got me hooked on the "Kylo in glasses" imagery. Thanks for that babe <3


	14. Chapter 14

Kylo couldn’t sleep.

 

In his head he kept playing the moment in the car with Rey over and over again, like a gif you watched until your eyes burned and you remembered every finite detail. The flyaway hairs along her hairline, the smell of her wet jacket, the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the door handle. 

 

He wanted, more than anything he could remember in a very long time, to cross the center console of his car, take her narrow chin in his hand, and kiss her. 

 

But why? It made no logical sense. He should hate her for who she was and who she worked for. Instead all he could think of was the way she challenged him, the good she managed to find in everything, the warmth and kindness she exuded. She exemplified everything he wished that he could be. Even knowing that, he didn’t find himself wanting to be her, he just… wanted her.

 

He stayed awake for another hour, phone in hand, hovering over their message chain. Would she be awake? Would she respond to his message if she was? 

 

He fell asleep with his phone still in his hand, dreaming of the heat of her small hand on his back.

 

* * *

 

Finn had woken up early that day so he could grab fresh bagels for Poe and him to have for breakfast. On leaving his apartment, he paused when he saw light trickle out from under Rey’s door across the hall.

 

After locking his own door, he knocked on hers, quietly in case she had just accidentally left the lights on. He was surprised when he heard her mutter, “Come in, it’s unlocked.”

 

“You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked here,” he told her as he let himself in, being sure to lock the door behind himself. She was curled up on her couch, wrapped tightly in a blanket with her laptop on in front of her. She looked like she hadn’t slept, her hair sticking up in every direction and dark bags beneath her eyes. 

 

Eyes peeling away from the laptop, she asked him, “So, what’s up?”

 

“It’s 6am, what are you doing up?”

 

Her eyes went wide. “Is it really? Shit, I have to be at work in five hours.”

 

“What are you even doing?” he asked, collapsing onto the couch beside her.

 

“Playing through the version of my life that isn’t a hot mess on the Sims.”

 

Finn cocked an eyebrow at her. “...Right.” 

 

Rey suddenly slammed her laptop shut and covered her eyes, letting out a long groan. “Finn, I think I’m fucked.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“I… have feelings for someone.”

 

That made Finn sit up quickly. “What? For who?”

 

“Don’t laugh at me.”

 

“I never do.”

 

She shot him a skeptical glare. “You laugh at me all the time.”

 

“This time, I won’t. I promise.”

 

She paused, her gaze rising to the ceiling before she muttered, “It’s Kylo Ren.”

 

“Really?” Finn was perplexed, but he definitely did not find her confession to be funny. “Why him? He was an asshole to you the first time that you met.”

 

“I know, but he apologized, and it was sincere. And he’s… comforting. Talking to him, being with him, is like coming home. He understands things no one else does.” She paused, and a faint, star-stricken smile lit up her lips. “And he’s hot and smells really good.”

 

Her words reminded him so much of how he felt about Poe when they first met. “Peanut, I just want you to be happy, and if he’ll make you happy, you should go for it.”

 

“But he’s a client. And he’s too good for me. And… I don’t know if I’m ready.”

 

Finn hid a frown. He knew of Rey’s past, and he knew how difficult it was for her to open up to someone. “Peanut, I  _ guarantee _ you that he’s not too good for you. Nobody is. As for if you’re ready, that’s something that only you can decide. Not him, and not me.” 

 

A soft smile lightened her features. “You always know the right things to say, Finn. I love you.”

 

“Love you too. I was going to run and grab some bagels, do you want one?”

 

“More than anything in the world.”

 

* * *

 

Rey wasn’t the type to let herself get hung up on traditions, or holidays for that matter, for they felt reserved for people with families. Until this year, her birthday was just another day, and she couldn’t wrap her head around the hubbub that was Christmas. 

 

In spite of that, there was one holiday she clung to, even if it was barely acknowledged as a holiday by the general public, and that was Halloween.

 

Even when she was being bounced around the foster care system as a child, she would always find a way to craft a semblance of a costume from her meager possessions so she could go out trick-or-treating. It was a holiday she didn’t need money to celebrate, and it was one day in the year when she could feel like a normal kid. She would need to give her foster siblings all of the chocolate bars with peanuts in them, but she would still eat wine gums and jelly babies until she went into a sugar coma. 

 

As she grew older, her love for it carried on. When she was too old to go door-to-door, she and Finn would borrow his mom’s car to dress up and go to the drive-in to watch the spooky double feature. When she was old enough to drink, they would always find a party downtown to attend together. Rey rarely called in sick unless it was dire and never took a holiday, except on Halloween. It was  _ her _ day, and Luke respected that. 

 

So it felt especially serendipitous when she received a text from Kylo four days after his last appointment with her.

 

_ \--Kylo 1:03pm _

_ Are you free on the 31st? I had a cancellation and I wanted to offer the slot to you before anyone else. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 1:04pm _

_ YES!  _

 

_ \--Rey 1:04pm _

_ I’m off that day.  _

 

_ \--Rey 1:04pm _

_ Can we do something spooky themed since it’s Halloween? _

 

_ \--Kylo 1:10pm _

_ Haha. Of course.  _

_ Kylo _

 

The two weeks after the text exchange passed with blinding speed as the days grew shorter, the air became more crisp, and green leaves turned to sunrises.

 

Halloween rolled around on a gusty Sunday. Too excited to sleep, Rey woke up with the sun and headed right into the city. The shop wouldn’t be open for hours, so she took herself out for breakfast at a sleepy greasy spoon diner. Her stomach filled to the brim, she took a walk around the Park to burn off some of her excess energy, taking in the fall leaves and the crisp breeze that pulled at her scarf. 

 

Once she was satisfied with the time, she made her way towards First Order, stopping at a nearby coffee shop on the way to grab a box of cookies and a tray full of drinks for the shop. 

 

It was Rey’s third time at First Order’s door. The first time had been filled with nervous anticipation, the second had given her a sense of revelation, and this time she predominantly felt excitement.

 

Finally, Kylo would tattoo  _ her.  _

 

Tattooing such a talented artist was an honour, but  _ being _ tattooed by him would be a different experience entirely. She had seen his work, and she knew he was well-deserving of all the accolades he had received. 

 

It wasn’t just his skill that excited her. The thought of being tattooed by him was… erotic, somehow. There was something primal about being marked by a person, permanently. She had tried to push that thought to the back of her mind and focus on his capabilities, but it still kept surfacing. 

 

When she entered the shop, she found it was exactly how she remembered. Having just opened, it was empty other than Kylo and the other two artists she recognized from her last visit, who were peering at her over the counter with curious gazes as she shut the door with her hip. 

 

Kylo looked up from his paperwork and smiled at her as she entered. She felt both comforted and slightly nervous just being in a room with him again. “Hey, Rey.”

 

“Hi, Kylo,” she said softly before pulling his cup out of the tray. “Venti chai latte, almond milk, two shots, sugar free vanilla syrup, extra hot and double cupped.” She turned next to the red-headed man beside Kylo, who wore a frown and a raised brow as he stared at her. “You must be Hux, here’s your pumpkin spice latte.”

 

“Did Kylo tell you to order this for me?” he sneered. “I’ve told you a thousand times Kylo, I don’t like pumpkin spice.”

 

“Right,” Kylo muttered over the lip of his drink, rolling his eyes gently in Rey’s direction. In spite of Hux’s attitude, Rey spotted that he still took a sip of the drink and smiled faintly. 

 

“And that leaves Phasma,” Rey turned to the blonde-haired woman, who was already wearing a gentle smile, “and your peppermint mocha.”

 

“Thank you both.”

 

On the counter, Rey placed the box of cookies. “I bought these as well, so have as many as you’d like.” She reached into the box to grab a chocolate chip cookie for herself before turning to Kylo. “Can I see the sketch?”

 

“Of course, come with me.”

 

He lead her into his private room branching off of the main area of the shop, closing the door behind her. It was windowless and he had painted the walls red, although she could barely see it behind the paintings and drawings that covered almost every free inch. On the wall beside the door he had a row of awards, and beside a full-length mirror he had a long column of pictures of him with various celebrity clients, about half of which she recognized. There was another door on the back wall which she presumed was the separate entrance, and she threw her coat and bag over an empty chair beside it. Ambient music played over the speakers, softer than the metal playing in the main area. 

 

She liked it in there. She was used to being alone with him in her shop, but it felt more private and intimate being in the smaller room. 

 

Kylo drew her attention by laying a sketch down on his table. “Here it is, your black widow spider. I’m going to add shadows beneath its legs to really help it pop, but I was thinking of keeping the background minimal otherwise so it looks like it’s really alive on your skin.”

 

The sketch was simple, for she knew all the detail would come out on her skin, but she still had complete faith in him to make it something special. “Yes. Definitely.”

 

“You were thinking side of your forearm for placement, right?”

 

“Do you think that’ll work?”

 

Rey put down her coffee, and carefully he took her right hand and lifted it up so he could see the area he was working with. He splayed his palm over the bare skin there, and she involuntarily sucked in her breath at his touch. 

 

“We can make it work, definitely.” Rey wondered if his words were a little breathy, or if it was just her imagination. She took a bite of her cookie before he continued. “I think I want the legs pointing towards the inside of your arm so we can use that nice flat area for the body. What do you think?”

 

Rey didn’t answer.

 

Rey  _ couldn’t _ answer. 

 

Blood was rushing in her ears, her skin felt too tight on her body, and her throat felt constricted. Her brain was begging her to breathe and she was trying, trying so hard, but even as she began to gasp it was like breathing through a coffee stirrer. 

 

“Rey?” She registered Kylo’s voice, but it sounded like he was talking to her through water, or something thicker, like oil. “Are you okay?”

 

“Peanuts.”

 

The word was nothing more than a whispered croak.

 

And she collapsed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time in chapter 1 when I mentioned Rey had a peanut allergy?  
> Yeah, me neither.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Needles and hospitals

Everything was very still.

 

All Kylo could hear was Rey’s gasping breaths, all he could see was the ragged rise and fall of her chest, all he could smell was her fear mingled with his own.

 

He remembered when he was thirteen, and his friend Mike’s family invited him up to their cottage in the Muskokas for a week in the summer. On one of the days, Mike and Kylo wanted to take the canoe to one of the islands in the center of the lake to fish. Before they went, Mike’s father instructed Kylo on how to use Mike’s epipen, since Mike had a severe bee allergy and they would be far away from the cottage.

 

_ Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh. _

 

Kylo remembered the warm, kind face of Mike’s father, and the soft smile he wore as he recited those words to him. He never had to use Mike’s epipen, and a year later, Kylo egged their house after Mike asked the girl he liked to homecoming and he wasn’t invited to the cottage again after that. 

 

Those childhood lessons on first aid felt like folly to him at the time, but in that moment of a real emergency, they came back with perfect clarity.

 

He fell to his knees next to Rey, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Rey, it’s going to be ok. I’m going to help you.”

 

He stood next and swung open the door into the main room of the shop.

 

“Hux!” he called out. “Call 911, now. Rey had an allergic reaction.”

 

For a moment when Hux first turned to Kylo, he wore a sneer like he was about to issue a challenge; when he saw Kylo’s thunderous expression, however, the sneer slipped away to be replaced with resolve. He sent Kylo a firm nod and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, dialing immediately.

 

Kylo dashed back to Rey and saw that she was pointing at her bag. Her face had turned red from exertion and her eyes were wide with fear. He grabbed the bag and dumped the contents haphazardly on the floor, searching wildly for the blue and orange. When he found it, he grasped it with a trembling hand. 

 

“Rey,” he told her, keeping his voice as steady and low as he could, knowing he needed her to keep calm to help her breathing, “I’m going to use your epipen on you.” 

 

She looked like a broken doll, lying on the floor, limbs scattered, long lashes fanning across her red cheeks when she closed her eyes. 

 

Kylo couldn’t remember being so scared in a long time, but he knew it paled in comparison to how scared  _ she _ had to be. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he popped the orange cap off of the pen and drove the needle through her jeans and into her thigh.

 

Rey gasped and twitched upwards as he did. The effects of the epinephrine were immediate: her breathing was restored, the redness drained from her face, and tears began to fall from her eyes.

 

Kylo knelt beside her, taking the side of her head in his hand. Sweat beaded along her hairline and she was breathing like someone who nearly drowned. She looked exhausted. 

 

“Did you call 911?” she whispered. Kylo looked up at the doorway to see that Hux and Phasma had appeared, both wearing expressions of shock and worry. 

 

“They’re sending an ambulance straight away,” Hux assured her. 

 

In a tight voice, Phasma asked, “What happened?”

 

“She said ‘peanuts’,” Kylo answered, not wanting to exert Rey with speaking. “There must have been one in the cookie.” He was going to find that coffee shop and he was going to murder them for what they did to Rey. To incorrectly label the allergens on their cookies had nearly killed her, and they were going to pay for it. 

 

It was only a ten minute wait until the ambulance arrived, which was a miracle considering how little regard New York drivers had for ambulances, and Kylo didn’t leave Rey’s side for a second. The EMS rolled in the front door with a stretcher, their dialogue prompt and professional, before they placed it beside her and gently slid her onto it. 

 

“I’m coming in the ambulance with you,” Kylo told the nearest EMS, a short bald man wearing a nametag that read ‘Smith’. 

 

“Sir, no one rides in the ambulance with a patient.”

 

Kylo set his jaw and loomed up to his full height, towering over the smaller man. “You  _ will _ make an exception.”

 

The man crossed his arms, peering upwards at Kylo. “We will not.”

 

Kylo cursed and turned away. Getting into a fist fight with an EMS would do nothing to help Rey.

 

“We’re taking her to New York Presbyterian, you can meet us there.”

 

With that, they wheeled away Rey’s stretcher. Kylo followed them out to watch them load her into the ambulance before they took off north, cherries flashing.

 

A hand rested on his shoulder, and from behind him Phasma said, “You took good care of her, and they will too. Go follow her, Hux and I will watch the fort.” 

 

Kylo shrugged her hand off and took off towards his parked G-Wagon. 

 

* * *

 

Finn was in a meeting with three other graphic designers when he got the call. 

 

His cellphone had been off for the meeting, but the secretary knocked on the door of the conference room before letting himself in.

 

“Finn, I have a call for you. It’s an emergency.”

 

Fear flooded through him and he stood quickly, excusing himself to the secretary’s desk so he could take the call from his phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Finn?” The voice on the other line, a man’s, was unfamiliar. It was echoey, like he was on speakerphone.

 

“Yes?”

 

“My name is Kylo Ren. Rey was at my shop today for a tattoo and she had an allergic reaction to a cookie. I administered her epipen and she was taken by ambulance to New York Presbyterian. I’m on my way there now.”

 

Finn was well aware of Rey’s allergy, but he had never witnessed a reaction firsthand. From the fear in Kylo’s voice, he knew that it had been serious. He was nervous, but he also had a gut feeling that Kylo had taken good care of her. 

 

“I’ll meet you there.”

 

* * *

 

“Kylo, she’s waking up!”

 

Rey’s eyelids felt heavy, so heavy, but she still forced them open, closing them again quickly when her pupils were assaulted with blinding fluorescent lights. 

 

She felt… very heavy, and tired. But overall, better than she expected. 

 

“Good morning,” Finn’s voice cooed above her. 

 

Fighting the heaviness she fluttered her eyes open, and she was greeted by two familiar and smiling faces hovering over her: Finn’s, and Kylo’s. It was odd seeing them together, a juxtaposition of her oldest friend and her newest.

 

“Good to see you awake.” Finn spoke gently and pulled her hand into his. “We were worried about you for a bit.”

 

“Hi.” Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. 

 

In a low voice, Kylo asked, “How do you feel?”

 

“Tired,” she slowly answered.

 

“Your body went through a lot,” Finn said. “Get your rest. I’ll --” his gaze drifted up to Kylo, who gave him a perfunctory nod, “ _ \--We’ll _ be here.”

 

Rey didn’t need to be convinced to fall back asleep after that.

 

* * *

 

When Rey woke again, the room was dark. It was night outside and the lights were off, the only sources of illumination coming from the hallway and the moonlight. 

 

She felt much more alert than before; she noticed the talc-and-shit smell of the hospital, the soft voices of nurses dashing around outside her room, the sound of someone snoring to her left. She looked beside her and saw Finn there, the moonlight trickling in from above him, casting faint shadows across his wide nose and open mouth. 

 

“Finn?”

 

“Huh?” He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes with balled fists. “What? I wasn’t sleeping.”

 

“You were snoring.”

 

“I was awake-snoring.”

 

She smiled at him fondly, and he sent her a relieved smile in return. “You’re looking better,” he said.

 

Noticing that the room was empty other than the two of them, she asked, “Did Kylo go home?”

 

“No, he went to grab us some coffee.” Finn’s chair scraped against the floor as he dragged it closer to the side of her hospital bed. “He hasn’t slept and he’s barely left your side.” He leaned in closer to whisper to her conspiratorially, “I think he really cares about you.”

 

Rey tamped down the hope that flared bright in her chest, and whispered back, “I think he saved me.”

 

“I think he did, too.”

 

Both Rey and Finn looked at the door when they heard footsteps, and Kylo appeared there, two small, brown coffee cups in his hands. He was so tall and broad that he filled the doorway, blocking out most of the light from the hall. Still, Rey was granted enough light to see the broad grin on his face when he looked at her. It was a smile filled with care, relief, and what looked almost like reverence.

 

No one had smiled at her like that before. 

 

“Hi,” he said, the smile never leaving his face.

 

“Hi.”

 

“How are you feeling?” he entered the room now, passing one of the coffees to Finn who shot him a gracious smile.

 

“Better. Really.” 

 

And she did. Maybe it was the sleep, or maybe it was the effect of having Kylo at her side, smiling like that, but she hadn’t felt that good in a very, very long time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY WHO THE FUCK AM I?
> 
> 100000000 thanks to J who has helped me immensely in how I wanted this all to play out.

“You need to sue them.”

 

“No.”

 

“I have a good lawyer, I’ll give you her number.”

 

“First of all, no. Second of all, why do you have a lawyer?”

 

Kylo chose not to answer that question. “If you won’t sue them, you need to have them shut down. We’ll write to the New York Times and tell them what happened.”

 

“Absolutely not. They’re a small family-run business that’s just trying to survive who made a mistake. I’m not shutting them down over this.”

 

He was growing impatient when he asked her, “What are you going to do, then? There have to be consequences for them for doing this to you, or what if this happens to someone else?”

 

“I’ll go and talk to them myself and let them know.”

 

Kylo slumped into the chair beside her bed. “How are you  _ not _ furious?”

 

Rey reached for his hand, clasping it between her two smaller ones. Even though the gesture wasn’t romantic, it felt incredibly intimate, especially when she looked deep into his eyes. “Because everyone makes mistakes, Kylo, and I won’t ruin their lives over this one.” 

 

Kylo shook his head slowly, but kept his hand between Rey’s. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

 

“And I don’t understand you, either.” She pulled her hands away, and his hand suddenly felt cold. 

 

“Rey--”

 

A knock on the door interrupted Kylo, and they both looked up to see Hux and Phasma in the doorway. Hux wore a pinched expression and was holding a pot of flowers in one hand with some disdain, and Phasma was holding his free hand while wearing a concerned smile. 

 

“How are you feeling, Rey?” she asked.

 

“Much better, thank you.” And she looked better: she was sitting upright in her bed and her foot had been twitching in impatience to leave. 

 

“We brought you these.” Hux awkwardly and stiffly walked around the bed and placed them in her windowsill.

 

“That was very kind of you.” She smiled brilliantly at the flowers; they were a mix of bright yellow carnations and white daisies, which felt incredibly suitable for her.

 

“We were so worried about you,” Phasma said, clasping Hux’s hand when he reached her side again. “I’d never seen an allergic reaction before. It’s… alarming.”

 

Kylo shot Phasma a slightly incredulous look. 

 

“The more alarming part is having to live my life without peanut butter,” Rey said with a smirk. “I’ve had the soy butter and trust me, it’s awful.”

 

Hux said, “Kylo, you surprised me. You’ve lost your shit over receiving the wrong brand of needles, but you kept it together for this.”

 

Through his teeth, Kylo seethed, “I am able to keep my shit together, thank you.”

 

“It was all very… Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction.”

 

The look Kylo shot Hux was more clearly incredulous. 

 

“I’m not Uma Thurman,” Rey said with a tinkling laugh. 

 

“When do you get out of here?” Phasma asked.

 

“Tomorrow morning,” she said, with a sigh of relief. Kylo was relieved as well: he had no intentions of leaving her, but he hadn’t left the hospital since the afternoon before. He grew tired of its baby blue walls and sterile smell and he was in desperate need of a shower. 

 

“Well, we’ll… let you rest.” Hux had gone from snide back to awkward, and Kylo was grateful for them leaving, even if his excuse was awful. They bid their goodbyes and left at a brisk pace.

 

The doctor came in shortly after they left to perform a checkup, and Kylo excused himself to find something for dinner in the cafeteria. The food was all processed garbage, of course, but he settled on an inoffensive-looking turkey sandwich from a cafe, as well as another cup of coffee. 

 

When he returned to Rey’s room, she was licking the bottom of a pudding container, the rest of her tray empty. 

 

“Hungry?” he asked her with a smirk. 

 

Her gaze still fixed on the cup, she asked him, “Have you ever gone hungry?”

 

The question shocked him, and he suddenly felt deeply uncomfortable. He walked past the end of her bed to her windowsill, looking out at the light dimming over the city. “No.”

 

“If you ever do, you’ll understand that every morsel of food is precious. Especially when that food is delicious.”

 

He felt like an asshole. She often made him feel like an asshole, completely inadvertently. She was just so kind and strong in spite of all the shit that she had suffered. Even in a world that had given her so many difficulties, she always managed to find beauty. 

 

“Kylo.” He turned to look at her, and she fixed him with a hard gaze. “Why are you here? I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way, I’m very grateful to have your company in such a miserable place. But I mean… I’m no one to you. I’m just your tattoo artist, your client, I don’t even know if you consider me to be your friend. Even my best friend left after I woke up so he could get some sleep and go back to work.”

 

His stomach dropped into the region of his shoes, and his heart pounded heavily against his empty chest. How could he answer that? Her gaze was filled with the sort of determination that told him that she wouldn’t let this go. He had lied too many times in his life, and had no desire to lie to her. But the thought of telling her the truth made him feel like a fool.

 

Then he considered how terrified he had felt when he thought that he was going to lose her. He thought of how full she had made his life feel in such a short time, how at ease he was around her, how good it felt to have something to look forward to in his life.

 

“I should hate you. You’re Luke’s apprentice, for fuck’s sake, do you know what that means to me?”

 

“No, because you’ve refused to tell me.”

 

He growled and pulled away from her gaze. “You are who I could have been if I wasn’t such a fuck up. You…” He gripped the edge of the windowsill. “ _ I  _ was Luke’s apprentice.  _ I  _ was going to be his prodigy. But after six months of me religiously cleaning his toilets and scrubbing his floors with a toothbrush and taking whatever scraps he threw at me, he fired me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He said I ‘didn’t have the temperament’. That I was too rude and impatient with clients. That if I let my emotions control my art, I could never be a good artist. Or at least, not good enough for him.” 

 

He felt Rey’s gaze bore into the side of his head and he turned to meet it.

 

“But you. You’re the first apprentice he took on, and now  _ you’re _ the prodigy I could have been. I should hate you, but instead, I care about you.”

 

Her gaze didn’t falter. For a moment her stern expression held before it slipped away, becoming something more gentle. “I care about you too, Kylo.”

 

“So… yeah. When you collapsed, I was fucking terrified. And angry, that of all the fucking people in the world something so scary could happen to  _ you _ .”

 

Rey flushed deep red and looked away, suddenly becoming deeply interested in a loose thread on her starchy hospital sheet. After a silence that stretched too long for Kylo’s comfort, she asked, so quietly that he barely heard, “What does this mean for us?”

 

The fact that she said ‘us’ shocked Kylo to his core, and he had to swallow down the sudden dryness in his throat. “I don’t know. I think we should discuss it over coffee some time.”

 

“Coffee?” her eyes flickered up towards him, and she wore a mischievous smile. It brought out the dimple on her right cheek, and he had the mad urge to press his lips there. 

 

“Or dinner,” he said with a shrug. “I’m flexible.”

 

“Is this a date?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then dinner. My choice.”

 

“My treat. And I’m doing your tattoo first, as soon as you get out of here.”

 

With a bright laugh, she said, “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 16 CHAPTERS AND 30000 WORDS AND THEY'RE FINALLY HOLDING HANDS.
> 
> Meat smoker level of slow burn here.


	17. Chapter 17

Poe arrived late in the evening after finishing a few deliveries for his parents. Kylo was resistant to leaving, but after much insistence from Rey he acquiesced. 

 

“I’m not having you tattoo me on no sleep,” Rey chided. 

 

“I can sleep here.”

 

“No you can’t. Go, get some rest, shower. Poe will take good care of me, won’t you Poe?”

 

“You know it,” Poe replied with a crooked smile. 

 

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” For a moment Kylo looked like he wanted to give Rey a hug before deciding against it, so in way of parting he turned towards her, nodded stiffly, and then left the room.

 

Once Kylo was out of earshot, Poe turned to Rey and mused, “He’s… intense.”

 

“He asked me out on a date.”

 

“Did he really?” Poe asked with a raise brow. “Finn told me everything he did. Helping you, calling him, staying here. He’s a good man, even if he is intense.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” Rey muttered, “because I said yes.”

 

* * *

 

After a sleep made restless by an uncomfortable hospital bed, pillow, and sheets, Rey was discharged early the next morning. Luke had insisted that she take the day off, so Poe drove her home in his rusted out pizza delivery car. She immediately took a long shower to wash off the residual hospital smell, only begrudgingly getting out when she ran out of hot water. On exiting the shower, she found she had a message from Kylo.

 

_ \--Kylo 9:44am _

_ Come in at 10pm today. I’m booked up for the day and can’t cancel anything so I’ll have to fit you in after hours. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 9:50am _

_ See you then! _

_ P.S. Should I bring cookies? _

 

_ \--Kylo 9:51am _

_ NO. _

_ Kylo _

 

Rey laughed to herself before plugging her phone into the charger beside her bed and snuggling into her own cotton sheets. Even though she had been sleeping on and off in the hospital, nothing beat the comfort of her own bed and she fell asleep quickly.

 

When she woke, she was shocked to see that the sun was already starting to set and it was 6pm. She quickly heated up a frozen pizza and started a pot of coffee, took another short shower, dressed, and attempted blow-drying her hair. She even opted to wear a little more than her usual makeup, adding foundation and eyebrows to her daily routine of just mascara. 

 

By the time everything was done, it was 7:30pm and she contemplated leaving, even though it would make her over an hour early. 

 

She was just so anxious to see Kylo again.

 

The day before, they had truly made a breakthrough. The veil of mystery that surrounded Kylo had broken, and although she knew that there was so much left for her to learn, this was a start. And it was thrilling to  _ have  _ that start. He clearly cared about her, and she cared about him, and although she was certain that what was to come wouldn’t be easy, she was equally certain it was worth exploring. The rest would be up to them to find out, together.

 

After watching a few episodes of mind-numbing television to pass the time, she left for First Order, listening to a podcast while on the subway to distract her. 

 

It was shortly after 10pm when she arrived at the shop. She knocked since Kylo had locked the door, and she heard the clunk of the lock turning only moments later. 

 

“Hi,” Kylo whispered after opening the door, grinning at the sight of her. He looked well-rested. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” she replied as she entered the shop and he slid the lock closed behind her. He had dimmed the lights and she spotted a few candle flames flickering in the din, casting shadows on the empty chairs and desks that dotted the room. The Smiths, a band she was associating more and more with him, played gently over the radio. 

 

It was… nice. It wasn’t as daunting as First Order felt during the daytime. It was quiet, comfortable, and private. 

 

“Do you do this setup for all of your late night clients?” she asked, shooting him a sly smile over her shoulder. 

 

“Just the very important ones.”

 

“Oh, so I’m very important now?”

 

The tips of his ears turned pink, and Rey had the strong urge to run her fingers along their shell. 

 

She wondered if he liked having his ears touched.

 

“So… do you want to be tattooed in the main room or the private room?” 

 

She realized that they were both a little stiff, a little awkward. The comfortable friendship between them had changed. There was a want that hung in the air, but neither seemed to know when to act on it or if they would be crossing the other’s boundaries. 

 

“Where are you more comfortable?”

 

“Main room,” she replied; she could have sworn she saw disappointment cross his features, but it disappeared quickly.

 

“Let me go get your sketches and stencil.”

 

* * *

 

Once in his private room, Kylo paused to close his eyes and take a deep breath to collect himself.

 

Rey was radiant. She was always radiant, but in soft lighting with romantic music playing over the radio and just the two of them in the big, empty shop --

 

Why had he thought this was a  _ good _ idea?

 

When she had walked in, he had to resist the wild urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. But he held himself back -- they had acknowledged that they cared for each other and she had agreed to go on a date with him, but that was  _ all _ that they had spoken of. If he crossed the line now and lost her, he would never forgive himself. He would instead be patient and follow her cues.

 

And if she kissed him?

 

Well.

 

He couldn’t think of that too much without his head spinning. 

 

And if he let his imagination wander -- to tasting the salt of her skin, feeling the swell of her hips, smelling her arousal… he would have a very obvious and embarrassing showcasing of his interest. 

 

He did math equations in his head to re-center himself before going back to the main room, sketches and stencil in hand. 

 

Rey had jumped onto one of the client tables, her feet dangling while her gaze darted between the pieces of art that covered the walls. She looked young and carefree, and severely nonplussed by the fact that the last time she had been in here she had collapsed and nearly asphyxiated. 

 

She grinned when she locked eyes with him, and Kylo’s heart palpated.

 

“Right,” Kylo muttered, more to himself than to her before he approached her. Her grin never leaving her face, she held up her bare arm for him. 

 

“Kylo Ren, will you tattoo me?”

 

He snorted and looked away to hide the flush that crept into his cheeks. “Rey Jackson, I’d be honoured.”

 

Whatever his feelings were, it was time to be professional.

 

With practiced precision, he laid the stencil on her arm, smoothing it out with his full palm. Her skin was soft but burned beneath his touch, and although he was curious to see if she was as flushed as he knew he was, he kept his focus on his work. Carefully he peeled away the stencil, gently grasping her wrist and elbow to change the directions of her arm and make sure that the placement was suitable from all angles.

 

“Do you want to take a look in the mirror?”

 

“I trust you.” Her voice was soft and low, and he had to fight back a shiver that wracked through his bones.

 

“Alright, just let me get set up.”

 

She waited patiently while he sanitized his station, prepped his ink, pulled his gloves on, and inserted the new needle into his gun. The positioning of the tattoo was slightly awkward for her to sit with, so he had her lie on her stomach with her forearm resting on a leather-covered raiser. 

 

Once everything was in place, he asked, “Are you ready?”

 

“Let’s get started.”

 

* * *

 

The moment the needle touched Rey’s skin, she began to talk. It distracted her from the pain, but she also needed distraction from the warmth of Kylo’s hands on her skin, even through his black latex gloves. She couldn’t let herself think about how those broad hands would feel on her hips, her back, her breasts. She wondered if his hands would be large enough to cover them, if --

 

No. Now was  _ not _ the time for that. Which was why she talked.

 

“I didn’t know you were a closet Smiths fan. I took you for a purist metalhead.”

 

Kylo laughed softly. “There are a lot of things about me that you don’t know yet.”

 

She liked the promises that came with the word ‘yet’. “Tell me one thing that I don’t know.”

 

“My birth name isn’t Kylo Ren.”

 

That wasn’t shocking. “Are you telling me your mother didn’t intend to name you like an early 2000s emo lead singer?”

 

His gun went quiet and he pulled away, shooting her an affronted look. “I take offense to that, considering that your name has a deliberate misspelling to make it edgy.”

 

“It makes it feminine,” she murmured. “And you haven’t told me what your birth name is.”

 

“Ben,” he replied, so quietly she could barely hear it over the buzz of his tattoo gun. “Ben Solo.”

 

“Hmm. Ben Solo.” She tested the words out on her tongue and found that she quite liked the name. “I rather like that. It’s a good alter ego name. Why don’t you use it anymore?”

 

“I wanted a fresh start, after things… ended with Luke. Good for privacy, too. You can’t find Kylo Ren in the Yellow Pages.” 

 

“What should I call you?”

 

She cursed herself for letting her voice go so low when she asked the question, but Kylo seemed unaffected, not stopping his work. “Kylo, if that’s ok. It’s been a long time since anyone has called me Ben.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“So, what’s your thing?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Your one thing that I don’t know.”

 

For a moment she paused, taking in the feeling of the needle sliding along her skin, like a cat’s claws. She listened to Kylo’s steady breathing beneath the heavy buzz of his gun and the faint music. It was so comforting having him near her, she wondered how she had gone so long without it. 

 

She knew what her biggest secret was. She knew that, if Kylo wanted to become intimate with her, he would have to find out. But where they were, now -- her lying on her stomach on his table, watching him work, while he hunched down low over her arm -- didn’t feel right. So she opted for the second thing that came to her mind.

 

“I don’t even know my parents names. They just… left me in an orphanage when I was younger, and never came looking for me. They could be anyone, anywhere. They could be loving and just not know where to find me, or they could not give a shit about me, or they could be dead.”

 

It was a thought that haunted her often, and she knew that every time she had told herself that she had come to terms with it, it had been a lie. Going to New York -- leaving the UK behind -- had been many steps farther for her acceptance than in her youth, when the foster care attendants had told her she could go anywhere she liked and she kept telling them “London”. Because her parents had left her in a London hospital, so she thought that they  _ had _ to still be in London, they  _ had _ to be in touch with the orphanage they had left her at, they  _ had _ to be looking for her. It wasn’t until she was eighteen and her foster parents told her it was time for her to get a job and to move out that she had finally accepted that her parents weren’t coming back. Not then, and not ever. In a way it had been a blessing, because it brought her here, chasing a wild dream when she had nothing left to lose. 

 

Kylo frowned. “Don’t be sorry,” she continued. “I’d be a nobody in London if I was still with them. No good artist was borne of privilege.”

 

“I take that offensively,” he said with a soft smile.

 

She burst out laughing at that. “You’re tattooing me literally right now, I’m certain you know that I find you talented.” 

 

“I think I need more flattery to recover from that offense.”

 

Softly she said, “You’re handsome, too.”

 

He didn’t stop his work, but Kylo turned beet red at that, and then they both went quiet for a while.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, you’re all set.”

 

Rey leapt up in excitement, pulling her new ink close to her face. “Oh,  _ Kylo. _ It’s stunning.”

 

It was. He hadn’t gone for a background, only a few shadows directly under the spider’s legs. He had shaded it in such a way that it looked real, like a large spider that was about to leap out from her arm. It was very technically sound. 

 

“I love it,” she said, grinning broadly up at him. 

 

“I’m glad.” 

 

Rey stood patiently while he rifled in his desk drawers, pulling out tape and a sterile pad. She held her forearm up for him while he stepped close to her and gently, almost tenderly, placed the sterile pad over her new tattoo and held it in place with tape. 

 

He was so close to her while he worked, bent low so he could be at eye level with her arm. He smelled like the cinnamon gum that he was chewing and his hands were fire against her skin. Just the feeling of him being so near to her made her heart flutter against her throat, and she swallowed in an attempt to steady her breathing.

 

When he was finished, his fingertips lingered on her wrist and his eyes remained fixed on hers. She wanted nothing more than to keep her arm here, to feel his touch on her unending. His large hand could have fit around her wrist so easily, could have held her firmly in place, but he was nothing but gentle. 

 

Her eyes went wide when slowly, carefully, without breaking eye contact with her, he used those deft fingertips to pull her hand upwards so he could sweep his full lips along her knuckles.

 

She gasped.

 

Even that gesture, something that could seem so platonic, felt so distinctly  _ intimate _ when it was done by him. His pupils were pitch black as he watched her reaction: her sharp intake of breath, her flushed cheeks, her heart that was pounding so loudly in her chest she wondered if he could hear it. 

 

And, oh, she wouldn’t mind if he did, because if he did then he would  _ know _ , know how she was feeling in that moment, know how badly she wanted to feel those full and soft lips against her own. 

 

She placed the hand that he had kissed on his chest, and he wrapped his hand around it immediately. He was warm and firm beneath her touch.

 

He took a step nearer to her, closing the sliver of air between them.

 

She moved her body only an inch forward and suddenly she was flush against him, feeling the way that her legs curved into the spaces between his, the way her breasts settled into the soft space beneath his ribcage, and she almost laughed when she realized her head only came to halfway up his chest. She was so close, she could smell his laundry detergent off of his clothes. 

 

He snaked his free hand around her lower back, anchoring onto her firmly with his strong grip.

 

She was so close, even with their height differences, that she could count the freckles on his face, could see for the first time how long his eyelashes were. In that moment, she wanted to memorize every one of his features, from his wide ears to his tightly pulled back hair to the heartbeat she could feel pounding beneath her palm.

 

Rey was an impulsive person. In times it had gotten her in trouble, and in other times it had served her well. But in that moment, beneath the heat of Kylo’s gaze and tucked securely in his arms, rising up onto her toes to press her lips to his didn’t feel impulsive, it felt  _ right _ .

 

He bent down and met her halfway. His lips were soft, and hot, and moist, and a truck could have burst through the front window and ran into them both and she would’ve died happy. Every nerve in her body was alight, and she felt weightless, worryless, only focused on  _ him. _

 

_ Kylo. _

 

His lips moved with hers, gently, slowly, and patiently. Nothing felt rushed, not the gentle tickle of his touch moving up and down her back, not the hand that squeezed hers. They were waves in the ocean, Kylo and Rey, moving in languid unison. He tasted like cinnamon and smelled of sandalwood, and his heart was beating a sharp staccato against her hand, a juxtaposition to their slow kiss. 

 

They could have kissed for a minute or an hour, Rey was unsure, but she pulled away when the soles of her feet began to ache from holding herself up.

 

“Holy shit,” she muttered, touching her lips with trembling fingertips.

 

“Wow,” he whispered, and then they were both laughing, and it felt so  _ right _ that Rey was certain that nothing in her life had been right until that moment.

 

“I meant to wait until after our first date to do that but --”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t wait.” 

 

“Me too.”


	18. Chapter 18

Rey and Kylo quickly discovered that arranging a dinner date was not as simple as they would’ve liked.

 

With both of their shops being open until 10pm daily, and both of them working almost every day with erratic days off, it was almost impossible to arrange dinner at a ‘normal’ time.

 

_ \--Kylo 8:05am _

_ Are you free tomorrow for a late dinner? Around 8pm? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 9:04am _

_ I have to close up the shop since it’s Monday. How about Wednesday? _

 

_ \--Kylo 9:15am _

_ I have to close Wednesday to Friday since Hux and Phasma are going to a BnB upstate. What about the weekend? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 10:20am _

_ I have a big piece coming in Saturday that I expect will go late, and Sunday I have a 9pm appointment. _

 

_ \--Kylo 11:04am _

_ Maybe next week will be better. _

_ Kylo _

 

He wanted to tell her that he missed her. He wanted to tell her that he had been thinking of her every day since they had kissed. Countless times, he had run over every detail from that moment: the warmth of her hand on his chest, the way her cotton shirt bunched beneath his grip, the smell of lavender on her skin, the softness of her lips, the fact that she tasted so faintly of weed.

 

He  _ liked  _ weed, and he liked that  _ she _ liked weed.

 

The longer that their work schedules kept them apart, the more haunted he was by the memory of their kiss. 

 

The day after it, he had been so jovial on his way to work that he had picked up coffee and donuts for everyone and Hux had given him a look like he had grown a third head. 

 

But when two weeks passed without seeing her and no date had been planned yet, he grew more sullen and solemn, spending more time in his private room in the shop than usual. He was angry with himself for depending on her so much already, but he was unable to let his thoughts of her go. He also found himself more distracted than usual, haunted by the taste of her lips, the smell of her skin. 

 

Too often, he found himself wondering about the parts of her he didn’t know yet. He dreamed of the delicate skin between her breasts, the softness of her bare back, the salt of her collarbone, the warmth between her thighs. 

 

He was like a teenager all over again, given a taste of Rey but starving for more. During his deprivation, he was loath to admit to himself that he had relied on his hand for relief too often.

 

But it was not what he needed.

 

It wasn’t even close.

 

He needed  _ Rey _ . 

 

Were it not for Luke -- and his respect for Rey’s space -- he would have showed up at Resistance long ago, but a surprise drop-in felt inappropriate, so he resisted. 

 

On a frosty Tuesday in mid-November, Kylo pulled away from his work on a long-time client when his cellphone pinged.

 

_ \--Rey 3:49pm _

_ Come to Resistance tonight, when you’re done work. Stop by Maz’s Diner on the way to pick up food, I’ll place the order for us. Just let me know what time you’ll be done. _

 

A broad smile lifted his lips: clearly, he wasn’t the only eager one. 

 

_ \--Kylo 3:50pm _

_ Is that an order? _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 3:51pm _

_ Yes. _

 

_ \--Kylo 3:51pm _

_ In that case, I’ll be done around 9:30 tonight. I’ll pick up the food around 10 or 10:15. _

_ Kylo _

 

_ \--Rey 4:04pm _

_ See you then. _

 

She enclosed the address to the restaurant in her next text.

 

The rest of the day passed by agonizingly slowly. Kylo’s last customer came in at 8pm, and they managed to bang out her cherry blossom piece in just over an hour, so by the time he cleaned up and was leaving the shop he was precisely on time.

 

He parked directly in front of Maz’s, a small hole-in-the-wall diner a block or so from Resistance. When he entered it was surprisingly bustling; in spite of the late hour, almost all of the tables were full, and harried-looking servers darted between customers with their hands filled with plates or glasses. The walls were painted sunshine yellow and dotted with ragtag art pieces and the tables and chairs were mismatched teak. The music that played over the speakers sounded straight out of the 50s. 

 

A woman scurried over to him; she was so short that she barely passed waist height, and her gaze behind bottlecap glasses was so sharp she could have cut straight through him like butter. 

 

“You Rey’s boy?” she asked him, her voice as sharp as her gaze. 

 

Kylo liked the sound of that. Rey’s boy.

 

Judging by the wide berth the other servers gave her and the respect she commanded in spite of her stature, he had the feeling this was Maz. “I am. You must be Maz.”

 

“I am.” Taking a step closer to him, she rose onto her toes, peering upwards at him. He felt like he was being x-rayed. 

 

As quickly as she had appeared she disappeared into the back, returning with a stack of styrofoam containers with steam slipping out the edges. Maz watched him warily as he pulled out his wallet to pay her in cash; he felt her gaze on him still as he exited the diner to go back to his car.

 

* * *

 

The lights at Resistance were off when he arrived, and he paused to check his phone and ensure that he had followed Rey’s directions correctly. 

 

Now it was his turn to tap on her shop’s door, and it was she who answered quickly.

 

The moment they saw each other, the smile that she gave him was so warm it encapsulated him, pushing away late autumn’s bite. 

 

She looked beautiful, even in the simplest of clothing -- a black and red plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up, dark wash skinny jeans with the knees torn, black low top Chucks, her hair gathered into a bun on the top of her head. 

 

He held up the boxes of Maz’s food, and her smile managed to grow.

 

“You found Maz’s okay!” she stepped aside and he entered the shop.

 

“She’s an interesting woman,” he mused. “So, do you want to head back to my place, or --” he stopped when he saw that Rey had set up a checkered picnic blanket on the floor, topped with a dark bottle of wine and two glasses. She had dimmed the lights and lit a few candles, as well as one of Luke’s incense, judging by the smell. Soft instrumental music played over the speakers.

 

From behind him, she said gently, “I thought we could stay here. I know it’s not much, I picked everything up from the corner store, I just --”

 

Careful of the boxes in his hand, he pulled her into a tight one-armed hug. “I like it,” he said, and he meant it. It still wasn’t his vision for their first date -- he planned to take her to a nice restaurant, something where they could dress up a little and order menu items they couldn’t pronounce -- but he liked that  _ she  _ did it for him. 

 

They sat across from each other on the blanket, Kylo setting out the containers of food and plastic utensils while Rey twisted open the wine bottle and poured them both healthy glasses. The food was classic American diner style -- a burger, cut in half, with fries; an oversized Caesar salad; a stacked sandwich, with more fries on the side; and two slices of pie, one apple and one cherry. 

 

It was soothing being around her again, even just like this. The frustration that he had held onto in the past weeks slipped away, and all he could think of was her warmth.

 

Across the food and wine, he reached out, palming her cheek. It was hot beneath his hand, and her gaze flickered upwards in surprise.

 

“Thank you,” he said, before he rose onto his knees and reached across, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. They were a little dry, and she tasted like coffee. 

 

“I should thank you, since I made you pay,” she said with a smirk, a dimple appearing on her cheek as she did. 

 

“Next time, though, fancy dinner. My treat and my choice.”

 

“Fine,” she acquiesced, before taking a hearty bite of her burger. 

 

In the end, they finished all of the food and the bottle of wine, with Rey drinking most of it so Kylo could still drive. He insisted on dropping her off at home, and they shared a quick and sloppy kiss in the car before she went inside, her walk lit by the vivid moonlight. 

 

He was so smitten with her already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and fluffy chapter for y'all today, sorry this took me so long.
> 
> There will be more serious stuff coming, but I'm really enjoying writing them in the throes of falling for each other. 
> 
> P.S. I totally envisioned Explosions in the Sky playing over the speakers in this scene.


	19. Chapter 19

“You’re joking.”

 

“Rey, I know, I’m sorry --”

 

“I told you about this _three months_ ago, Finn.”

 

He scrubbed his face with his hand. “I know, and I’m so sorry, but my flight is booked already.”

 

Rey sighed and slumped into her chair. Months ago, she had purchased tickets for her and Finn to attend the grand opening of a new aquarium in Brooklyn, and she had been looking forward to it for ages. But Finn being, well, Finn, had completely forgotten and had booked a seminar in Vegas for the weekend. She wasn’t well and truly angry with him, but she _was_ exasperated with his lack of using a calendar.

 

“You owe me,” she mumbled.

 

“I know.” He bent down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead, and she smiled softly, unable to stay angry with him.

 

“Do you think Poe would go with me?”

 

“It’s his exam period, he told me he wouldn’t be leaving the house until it’s over in two weeks.”

 

She sighed softly. Rey would go to the opening regardless, but she hoped that she wouldn’t have to go alone. Ages ago, Rose had told her that she was afraid of sharks, so Rey knew she wouldn’t exactly have the urge to go to an aquarium which specifically had a tunnel full of sharks.

 

She could ask Kylo. They had already arranged to meet for dinner on the Saturday of the opening, but perhaps he would be available earlier.

 

Slipping her phone out of her pocket, she pulled up his number.

 

_\--Rey 10:10pm_

_Are you free on Saturday at 4 before we go for dinner?_

 

_\--Kylo 10:15pm_

_I can be._

_Kylo_

 

_\--Rey 10:15am_

_Perfect. Here’s the plan._

 

* * *

 

 

For late November, the evening was mild. Rey was early for their arranged meeting time, so she waited outside the aquarium, the sun’s rays touching her cheeks through the temperate air. That afternoon, Rose had helped her choose an outfit for her date with Kylo after combing through her closet and grousing over everything being black. They finally settled on a knee- and elbow-length sweater dress with a deep v-neck over thigh-length stockings paired with lace-up black boots with a small heel. She had swiped on a deep red lipstick and black eyeliner, and her hair was down. Over top, she wore a black overcoat and a navy blue scarf to keep her warm.

 

A few minutes after she arrived, she spotted Kylo’s dark mass of hair through the crowds at the base of the steps to the aquarium. Her heart bloomed at the sight of him. His hair was down, which was an unusual sight; it was thick, dark, and wavy, framing his angular features. He wore a black peacoat with an argyle scarf tucked in around the neck.

 

Wearing a smile, he made his way up the stairs towards her. “You look amazing.”

 

“You too, you clean up well.” And he did; he looked like a fucking male model with his hair like that. He took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she flushed. It had been a week since their picnic at Resistance, and she had missed him immensely, more than she felt like she should. How was she so attached already?

 

“Ready to go inside?”

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the aquarium, Rey was as enthusiastic as a child. She took Kylo’s hand and lead him between exhibits, babbling in excitement about seahorses, electric eels, and puffer fish.

 

Truth be told, Kylo didn’t care much for the aquarium. Fish were food, not exhibits. The whole place smelled like seaweed and there were too many children running around his feet for his liking.

 

But seeing Rey’s excitement made him appreciate it more than he ever had.

 

“Why do you like this so much?” he asked her when she was crouched low, her nose nearly pressed to the glass of a tank that held a school of clown fish.

 

She rested her hands on her knees and pushed herself up, meeting his gaze. “You forget your privilege sometimes, Kylo.” She began to walk slowly towards the next exhibit, the jellyfish area, her tone low and thoughtful as she spoke. “When I was a child, being shuffled from foster home to foster home, do you think they ever took me out to a place like an aquarium? Or even a museum? Most of my foster parents wouldn’t even sign my slips for school outings. Until I moved here and finished my apprenticeship, finally making enough money to pay my bills and have a little bit of extra income, I had never been to an amusement park. A zoo. An art gallery. I remember --” she paused, laughing faintly to herself. “I remember when Poe took me to the MoMA for the first time. He likes art a little bit, but I made the poor man stay there for eight hours. He disappeared for a while and I think he took a nap in the coat room.

 

“The thing about an aquarium, Kylo -- you’re surrounded by life. And not the sort of life you’re surrounded by every day in the city, but the sort of life that exists in a world so distant, so unique, it’s hard to believe that it’s on the same planet as ours. How can you not find that to be marvelous?”

 

“I… suppose you’re right,” he muttered. Constantly, he was reminded of how underprivileged Rey’s upbringing was, and how hard she had worked to get where she was. Even still, with her relative success as an artist, she managed to find brightness in the smallest things that most people took for granted.

 

He wanted to take her snorkeling, so she could get even closer to the fish that she loved.

 

He wanted to take her to Paris, so she could see the Louvre. She’d spend days there, he knew, exploring every crevice.

 

He didn’t care much for those things himself, but he wanted to see _her_ happy. He wanted to give her everything the world had denied her.

 

Cast in shadow aside the bright and artificial blues and pinks, she stood before the jellyfish, watching their slow ascent through the water. Kylo reached out to her, taking her hand and pulling her in for a soft kiss. Her lips moved gently beneath his, soft and supple, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in closer.

 

After a moment she broke the kiss, smiling against his lips. When she pulled away and settled back onto her heels, she reached up with her thumb to brush away the lipstick she left behind.

 

“It looks better on me than it does on you,” she said with a laugh.

 

They made their way to the end of the aquarium after that, but Rey stopped him when she spotted the stingray pond, encircled by patrons with their hands dipped in the water.

 

“We can touch them!” she declared joyfully, jogging over to the water’s edge. Kylo hung back, watching her. She rolled one of her sleeves up and, without pause, dipped her arm in the water up to her elbow. One of the rays glided over to her hand, and she squealed with glee when it swam beneath her touch. “It’s so soft!”

 

She turned to him, wearing a broad grin. “Kylo, you have to try this.”

 

“I’m good.” He had no desire to stick his hand into dirty, fishy water so he could touch a slimy ray.

 

“Come on, don’t be a baby,” she chastised. “Get over here.”

 

With a sigh of acquiescence he walked over, unbuttoning the cuff of his button-down and dipping just his hand in the water. One of the smaller rays must have taken a liking to him, for it swam over right away, running the tip of its wing between his fingers.

 

It was soft, and a little slimy, and he gasped and pulled his hand out of the water, splashing a bit on himself and Rey. He thought she might be angry but instead she laughed heartily, flicking a bit of water back at him before diving her hand back in, trying to draw the attention of another ray. With some trepidation, Kylo did the same, letting out a short bark of a laugh when a ray brushed along both their hands.

 

“See?” she said softly. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

 

“No,” he had to admit, “it’s not.”

 

* * *

 

 

In Kylo’s car on the way to dinner, he asked her, “Do you like sushi?”

 

Arching a brow, she responded, “Is this an ironic question since we just went to an aquarium?”

 

He laughed softly. “I had made us a reservation at a sushi restaurant before you had invited me to the aquarium. But I can cancel if you don’t like it.”

 

Rey shrugged. “I’ve only had the grocery store stuff, but I always like trying new food.”

 

He gasped, affronted. “Grocery store sushi is _not_ sushi. Let me show you real sushi.” They had parked, and Kylo walked around to her passenger door, opening it for her and locking the car behind her. He took her hand and lead her inside a highrise where they took the elevator to the highest floor.

 

When the doors opened, they were in a small but bustling restaurant, surrounded by minimalist Japanese decor. There were a few small booths that lined the walls, and a long bar with a few patrons seated, watching a chef prepare small strips of fish.

 

In high voices, several of the servers shouted “irrashaimase!” when they entered.

 

They approached the host stand, hands remaining clasped together. The host, a young Japanese woman wearing a black form-fitting dress and heels, asked them, “Nan-mei sama desu ka?”

 

Rey immediately felt nervous and overwhelmed; she didn’t speak a word of Japanese and she had a feeling this restaurant was much higher class than anything she had ever been to.

 

When Kylo responded in Japanese, saying, “Futari no yoyaku ga arimasu, Kylo Ren,” Rey was both shocked and impressed, not realizing that he spoke Japanese.

 

The host nodded at them curtly and lead them to a small, private booth tucked in the back of the restaurant. They hung their coats and sat, a small candle burning between them. There were no menus on the table. A server appeared immediately, placing sake and two small cups before them.

 

“You speak Japanese?”

 

Kylo chuckled. “That’s… basically all I know. I did a guest spot at a shop in Japan once, and the artists there taught me just enough to order food for myself.”

 

“Where else have you travelled to?” Rey asked while Kylo poured sake for them both.

 

“For work? Reykjavik a handful of times. Paris twice. Florence, Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Berlin once each.”

 

“And for fun?”

 

“I did a Euro tour to celebrate finishing my apprenticeship. Amsterdam, Brussels, Munich, Vienna, and Prague.”

 

Rey took a long drink of her sake; she had only had it once before, but this one was much better than the cheap stuff from the liquor store her and Finn had bought for an at-home sushi night. “Where did you like the most?”

 

“Reykjavik,” he answered quickly. “Toyko close second, though. The food is unbelievable. Same with Brussels, but everything has a lot of butter and cream in it.”

 

“I’ve only ever been to London, New York, and LA,” she said, trying and failing to keep the longing out of her voice. She couldn’t imagine being able to see as much of the world as he had, and she was envious. Being invited to the LA tattoo convention had been the most thrilling trip of her lifetime, and it was nothing compared to going to places like Vienna and Hong Kong.

 

A man in a chef’s dress appeared at the end of their table then, wearing a broad grin directed at Kylo and holding a plate with a bright assortment of fish. “Kylo!” he shouted so loudly that half the restaurant had to hear him, tilting his head towards Rey’s date. “Hisashiburi desu!”

 

“Hisashiburi desu,” Kylo said, returning his nod. “This is my date, Rey. Rey, this is Chef Akimitsu. He’s a client of mine and an excellent chef, if I may say so.”

 

“Your dinner,” Akimitsu said, presenting the dish with a flourish before placing it on the table between them. Pointing to the various cuts, usually piled with four pieces together atop a bed of greens, the chef gave them the name of each fish. “Sake, otoro, aji, hamachi, uni, ama-ebi, hotatagai. Douzo meshiagare!”

 

Wearing a timid expression, Rey looked to Kylo. “I missed what all of those things are.”

 

He pointed them out to her in turn, providing the English translations. “Salmon, fatty tuna, mackerel, yellowtail, sea urchin, shrimp, scallops. I’d start with the fatty tuna or the salmon, it’s the most mild flavour.”

 

Grabbing her chopsticks as well as she could remember, Rey grasped the fatty tuna, dipping the end in her soy sauce before bringing it to her mouth.

 

It was _heavenly_.

 

She had never tasted anything close to it. It was like butter but better, filling her mouth with bright flavours. She closed her eyes and moaned out loud, certain she had never eaten anything close to this delicious in her life.

 

“Oh. My. God.” She moaned again. “I get it now. I get why everyone loves sushi. Oh. My.”

 

She opened her eyes and saw that Kylo was watching her, his gaze dark. She blushed when she realized that she must have moaned louder than she meant to.

 

“Sorry,” she whispered, “it’s just… so good.”

 

Hoarsely he muttered, “Don’t apologize.”

 

Rey tried her best to keep her moans quiet from there, but couldn’t help when a few slipped out when she tried the yellowtail and the sea urchin.

 

When they had finished their meal, Kylo slipped the server a black credit card and signed the check quickly before they left, his hand resting on Rey’s lower back as he guided her back to the elevator.

 

“Kylo, that was --”

 

Her words were interrupted when he placed his palms on the wall above her head, centering her and looming over her. Suddenly his lips covered hers, hot and hungry as he kissed her fiercely. Her hands reached forward, finding purchase at his sides, bunching the fabric of his coat in her hands. The kiss was hungry and insistent, her lips dancing with his, and it made her head spin.

 

When the elevator doors opened at the ground floor, he pulled away but his hands stayed in place, closing her in. His eyes remained fixed on hers, his pupils blown.

 

“Do you want to come over to my apartment?” he asked her.

 

She _wanted_ to say yes.

 

She wanted to go to his apartment and have him shove her against his wall, running those big hands up her sides and along her thighs. She wanted him to tear her apart with his fingers and his tongue. She wanted _him_.

 

But she didn’t say yes.

 

She said “not tonight”.

 

The words left her lips of a volition that felt outside of her own, bourne of a fear that she had held for so long but had tried to bury beneath layers of false confidence. A fear that he would see her for who she truly was: a woman broken.

 

He was disappointed, she could see it in his crestfallen gaze, but he covered it quickly with a soft smile and a press of his lips to her cheek. “Okay,” he said, his tone understanding even though she knew he didn’t.

 

She felt guilty while he walked her to his car, drove her home, and bid her goodnight in the car with a gentle and chaste kiss.

 

But she wasn’t ready. Not yet. And if Kylo wanted this to be something, he’d have to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100,000 thanks to J for providing me with the Japanese used in this chapter! And also for constantly being my cheerleader and my inspiration and just generally an amazing friend, even on my worst days.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Some mildly smutty bits.

Kylo had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel as he drove home wildly over the speed limit, filled with so much pent-up energy he was amazed he didn’t punch his own windshield. 

 

He doubted insurance would cover the repairs if he did.

 

Miraculously he made it home without incident, grateful that no one had cut him off. He swung his apartment door open swiftly and slammed it shut behind himself, flicking the lights on and marching to his bedroom to collapse onto the bed. 

 

Tonight had been too much for his already fragile willpower. 

 

It had started with Rey’s dress. The fabric was thick-cut but form-fitting, hugging her curves, and the view of her bare chest the v-neck afforded was positively scandalous. He wanted to tear the neck of that dress open, letting her spill out, bare before him. He wanted to scatter her chest with kisses and bites, laying his claim with bruises on her pale skin.

 

But he had resisted her there. They were in a public location that wasn’t exactly erotic, what with the smells of fish and kelp and the children running around everywhere. 

 

Then, however, they had gotten to the restaurant, and Rey had made those positively  _ sinful _ sounds while she had eaten. Never in his life had watching a woman eat become such a turn-on, and his cock had gone hard, right then and there. The last of his already fragile willpower around her had eroded away, and he had kissed her in the elevator with the full intention of taking her home and finally, finally fucking her into the mattress. 

 

And then she had said those words, those fucking words, “not tonight”. He felt in that moment like he had been doused with a bucket of ice water. 

 

He wanted Rey, badly.

 

But he also greatly respected Rey, and would never cross any of the boundaries that she had set for him. 

 

That respect didn’t do anything to soothe his raging hard-on, and although him and Rey were not exclusive -- fuck, they had only just had their first date -- he was too attached to make a booty call and try and find a release with someone else.

 

So, like a fucking teenager, he pulled up his favourite porn site on his phone, slipped his pants off, and squeezed the base of his hard cock with a groan. He slid his hand up, running it along the length of his cock, sighing in relief at the pressure.

 

The video he chose didn’t matter, it was all background noise while his thoughts were filled with the intoxication of Rey. Her smooth skin, the smell of her hair, the way her hands grasped onto his clothing, her fucking  _ lips _ . They had only kissed but he couldn’t stop thinking of her, of what her cunt would smell like and her clit would taste like. His hand rocked upwards and downwards as he envisioned her hovering above him, open, bare, moaning as he tasted her, devoured her. He ran his thumb over his slit, wet with precum, and rubbed the moisture along the back of his cock. Oh fuck how he wanted to taste her, feel her, slip his fingers inside of her wetness, feel her clench around him. He squeezed his hand harder and increased his pace when he imagined her quaking when she came, murmuring his name in her lilt, her eyes closed and hair wild. His toes were numb and his fingertips were burning as he pumped harder, harder,  _ Rey, Rey,  _ wanting to taste touch feel lick  _ fuck _ . Already, so quickly, the buildup began in his core; he was going to cum as quick as when he was a teenager jacking off to nothing but night’s silence and the image of his science teacher’s ass when he bent over the desk. But he wasn’t thinking of that teacher now, or the actress in the porn video he had stopped paying attention to entirely, or anyone but  _ Rey _ . Her firm tits, her glistening cunt, he was pumping harder, faster, his ankles his wrists his core were all pins and needles, and the pleasure came rushing out of his cock in spurts as he came on his belly, too fast for him to grab a tissue, hot and wet and sticky relief. 

 

He smoked a bowl before taking a cool shower to clean himself off, collapsing back into the bed afterwards, his head light from the weed and the relief of cumming. Before falling asleep, he checked his phone to find he had a text.

 

_ \--Rey 12:02am _

_ I’m sorry about tonight. Thank you for being patient and understanding with me.  _

 

Kylo was immediately awash with guilt. She was a wonderful woman, and worth so much more to him than just sex. It would be frustrating, but it was worth it, for her.

 

_ \--Kylo 12:10am _

_ Of course. We can take it as slow as you need. _

_ Kylo _

 

* * *

 

Rey barely slept that night, her thoughts fixated on Kylo’s hot kisses and dilated pupils, as well as her own traitorous brain for weighing her down with fear. 

 

The only way to find some relief for herself -- and for him -- was for her to be honest with him. In the small hours, before she fell asleep, she vowed to herself that when she saw him for their next date, she would be honest with him. Hopefully that understanding would help both of them, and if it didn’t -- well, was he really worth it if he didn’t understand this?

 

That morning, she had stopped for a large coffee on her way to work to fuel her through the day and she also picked up a chai tea for Luke. The shop was empty when she arrived, the Grateful Dead crooning over the radio, Luke humming along tunelessly.

 

“Morning,” she called to him while she slipped off her coat. He was working on a sketch at his table, so she placed his tea in front of him before taking her coat to the back to hang it up.

 

“How was your night at the aquarium?” 

 

“It was good, I --” she paused. Something wasn’t right. She had told Luke she was taking the evening off, but she didn’t recall telling him why. “Did I tell you about the aquarium opening?” 

 

“Nope,” he responded, still sketching. “The paper told me.”

 

“Paper?” She felt chilled. Luke’s tone was light but held a frosty undercurrent.

 

Luke gestured to a copy of the New York Times that was on the front counter. “Entertainment section,” he told her.

 

She leafed through, stopping when she reached the designated section. 

 

The first page had a colour photo gallery of the opening, and the third photo on the page was a shot of her and Kylo in front of the jellyfish tank. She was smiling up at him, positively glowing really, while she wiped the lipstick off of his lips with her thumb. He was holding her hand and looking down at her like she was a rare jewel. 

 

She hadn’t even realized the picture was being taken. It was a good picture, and seeing them together like that, they looked… right. Like two halves of a whole. 

 

Luke’s voice resonated from his desk, breaking her fixation on the photo. “Rey, I’m not your parent,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you what and what not to do, and I’m not going to tell you who or whom not to date.” Rey turned to face him, and saw that he was watching her with an analytical gaze. “But I will tell you this: that boy, Kylo, is trouble. There’s good within him, but it is buried beneath a layer of anger, resentment, and unpredictability. I won’t patronize you by telling you to be careful, but I will tell you to ask him for the whole truth of what happened between him and I, not the abridged version that I’m certain that he told you, since it’s the version he’s told himself for years.”

 

Rey’s brow creased in a furrow and she looked away from Luke’s too intense gaze. The thought of Kylo omitting something -- something that sounded important -- from his story of what he told her burrowed under her skin, making her want to writhe from the inside out. 

 

But at the same time -- they both had their secrets, didn’t they?

 

She had to speak to Kylo, for two reasons, now. So she pulled out her phone and composed a text.

 

* * *

 

Rey arrived late at First Order, long after Kylo had told her that Hux and Phasma would be gone. Before entering, she took a deep breath to steel herself. For most of the day, she had thought of little but this, even though she put on a neutral face before her clients. 

 

The door was unlocked, so she let herself in. She was nervous and her hackles were up; she trusted Luke, and he had no reason to lie to her, while Kylo  _ did _ have reason to. She wouldn’t allow herself to enter this conversation angry, because that would only make it end angry, but she did prepare herself for the possibility that this wouldn’t end well. 

 

From across the shop, where he was mopping the floor, he said, “Hi,” wearing a small smile. She felt a twinge of guilt at that: she had only told him that she wanted to talk, she gave no indication that she didn’t expect it would be a particularly happy conversation. But perhaps, she reminded herself, if he had told her the whole truth in the first place they wouldn’t be here now. 

 

Seeing him, being around him, muddled the anticipation she had been carrying around like a talisman all day. She wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss him and pretend nothing was on her mind, but she couldn’t pursue some sort of relationship with him with Luke’s words ringing in her head and such a large unknown looming over her like a dark cloud.

 

He must have seen her concern, for when their eyes met his smile slipped away. 

 

“I need to know something,” she said, not bothering with observing niceties.

 

“Okay.” He leaned on his mop handle and turned his full attention to her. 

 

“What happened between you and Luke?”

 

“I told you what happened.” His tone was snappy, and he turned away from her to resume mopping. “He fired me.”

 

“That was it? Nothing else happened?”

 

The muscles between his shoulder blades were tense, she could see it from even this far. Rey wondered if he was debating between lying to her and telling her the truth.

 

“Why are you so fixated on this, Rey? Why do you care so much?” 

 

“Because Luke is my mentor, who I’ve been working with for years. He started my career and I both respect and trust him. I don’t know if you realize this, but a picture of us at the aquarium was in the paper today. Luke saw it, and he told me that he’s not going to control my life and who I date, but he suspects there’s something you’re not telling me. So… here we are.”

 

“And you trust him more than you trust me?” His tone was low and cold, and Rey felt a shiver wrack her spine.

 

“Yes.” Kylo flinched at that. “I’ve worked at his side for years, Kylo, and I’ve never had a reason to distrust him. He and I have always been honest with each other.” She looked away, briefly; it was true that Luke hadn’t told her an outright lie, or at least not one that she knew of, but he did have a tendency to omit details of his personal life. But she told herself that was for the sake of his own privacy and had nothing to do with her. Regardless, he had no reason to lie to her about  _ this _ . Whatever had happened between him and Kylo aside, Kylo was still his nephew, and Rey was still his employee, and Luke would gain nothing by stopping them from becoming involved. And if, on the rare chance that Luke  _ was _ lying and Kylo had nothing to hide, well, there would be hell to pay tomorrow, and she would need to reevaluate her trust in Kylo. “But Kylo, as much as I care about you, you’ve only been my client for a few months and more than that for a few weeks. I’d be a fool to fully trust you, as you would be a fool to fully trust me.” 

 

As she spoke, that tension wrought in his shoulders never eased. 

 

“The truth is ugly.” He sounded defeated already.

 

“My truth is ugly too. But if we want this to be… something… we need to know the ugly parts, too.”

 

A loud clatter resounded in the otherwise silent room when he dropped his mop and spun to face her. Anger sparked in his fierce gaze and his body was coiled like a spring; she felt her hackles rise at the sight. He had  _ no right _ to be angry with her, not now.

 

“You want to know the truth  _ so badly _ , is that it? You want to be justified in your belief that your precious Luke is blameless and I’m a monster, is that it?” His voice was rising, but Rey wouldn’t back down. “I punched him, Rey. I punched him in the fucking face. Because he took me on as an apprentice and gave me hope that I was skilled enough to train under his fucking greatness, and then he fired me. Not because I didn’t work hard enough; I scrubbed his fucking floors and cleaned his fucking bathroom and did his fucking grapefruit drill over and over again. He fired me, with no warning and no reason, and I punched him because he’s an asshole.” 

 

Kylo shouted the last word,  _ asshole _ , and the silence that followed was thick enough that Rey could’ve cut it with a knife.

 

As he stood before here, his face a mottled red from anger, his hands clenched into fists at his side, she didn’t see the man that she had grown to care for. She saw a boy, young and quick to temper. 

 

Truthfully, if he had told her calmly, had proven to her that he had grown past the teenager who punched his uncle, she would’ve accepted him then and there. But by shouting at her, he had only shown that he hadn’t grown at all. 

 

And to think, she had almost trusted him, almost given him all of herself, the whole bits and the broken bits. She felt like a fool.

 

Her voice was carefully schooled to neutrality when she said, “I think I know who the asshole is here.” 

 

She turned and left, the door closing softly behind her. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Fuck!”

 

Kylo’s urge to punch a wall was higher than ever; but if he damaged Snoke’s precious shop, he’d have to pay for it, and he had no desire to face that man’s wrath.

 

What the  _ fuck _ had he been thinking?

 

In no mood to finish mopping, he quickly stuck the mop and bucket back in the storage closet and closed the shop, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets so he could walk to the nearest corner store.

 

He couldn’t believe the audacity of Rey to attempt to resurface his past. Why did she think it was her business? Why did it matter so fucking much to her?

 

Yes, he had punched Luke. But Luke had also fired him for  _ no proper fucking reason _ and to this day Kylo remained bitter about that fact. It had shattered him, being so early in his career and being fired so quickly, and Rey making him rehash that memory over and over again only hurt more each time.

 

Let the past die. He was more than willing to never make contact with his uncle again and put that whole disaster behind himself. All he ever wanted was to move on from that shit, but then  _ she _ had come with her fucking  _ talent  _ and  _ beauty  _ and  _ kindness _ and  _ strength _ and pulled the rug right out from under him. Everything had been under control until she showed up. 

 

He arrived at a corner store, all crowded aisles and flickering fluorescent lights, and found their newspaper stand. There was a lone copy of the Times left, a little dog-eared and worn like it had been flipped through by a few too many wayward patrons. Kylo leafed through it until the cashier grumbled that he needed to buy it, so he paid for it and sat outside on the cold edge of the concrete sidewalk, listening to the rush of passing trucks while he read. 

 

In the entertainment section, front page, was where he found it. The section about the aquarium’s grand opening, the colour photo of them together in the jellyfish exhibit. 

 

The brights hues of the exhibit behind them washed them out, but they still appeared clear as day. Rey’s thumb was brushing along his lower lip, removing that dark red lipstick that she had left there. Her smile was blinding bright, like the moment right before she laughed, and she was leaning into him. His hand was clasping hers, and the way he smiled at her… Feeling himself do it every time he saw her and seeing it presented before him in a photograph were two entirely different sensations. When he was with her, he was so occupied with just being around her he didn’t realize how big, goofy, and  _ warm _ his smile was. It was a smile completely uninhibited, and it made the moment appear intensely private even though they were surrounded by the public. 

 

Never before in his life had he smiled at anyone like that.

 

_ Shit. _

 

He was… he hadn’t fallen for her yet, but he was well on his way to it, and he hadn’t realized it until he had stepped back and saw himself from the outside. 

 

Was he so absorbed in his own selfish need to abandon the past, that he hadn’t seen how wonderful his present had been?  _ Had been _ being the operative words, since with what he had done tonight, he had fucked things up with Rey as thoroughly as he had fucked them up with Luke. 

 

He needed to figure out what to do to make this right. Not for himself, not for Luke, but for Rey.

 

She was worth it.

 

* * *

 

Rey didn’t remember the subway ride or the walk home. Her surroundings were a blur, her thoughts a mess.

 

Two thoughts remained, intruding through the mess:

 

Why had Kylo resorted to punching Luke, of all things?

 

Why had Luke fired Kylo?

 

Violence for violence’s sake never made sense to her. She respected self-defence when necessary, but could never comprehend utilizing violence as anything but a last resort. Had Luke, perhaps, been the initial aggressor? That did not fit him, at all. And Luke didn’t seem to be the sort who would fire someone without a damn good reason, and what Kylo had told her seemed like a terribly insufficient reason, especially considering that Kylo was family. That should have earned him a second chance, even if he had done something like pissed of a customer or made a mistake on a piece. 

 

She had gone to First Order for answers, and left with only questions.

 

It was late now, nearly midnight, but she was as far from tired as she had ever been and desperately needed someone to talk to. 

 

It was Sunday evening so Finn would be home, but most likely in bed, so she gently and tentatively knocked on his door, expecting no response. So she was surprised when Poe opened the door, looking exhausted with messy hair and bags under his eyes but very clearly awake.

 

“Rey?”

 

“Can I… come in? Did I wake you up?”

 

“Nah,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m up studying, have my first exam in two days. Could use a break, though. Come on in.”

 

She followed him inside. The apartment was a bit messier than usual, Poe obviously spending all of his time studying and Finn never being the neatest as it was. 

 

“Finn’s sleeping,” Poe told her in a low voice, so Rey followed his cue to keep quiet. She approached their couch and slid down onto it while Poe rustled in the kitchen. He entered the living room after a few minutes, carrying a steaming mug of tea, and when he placed it in front of Rey she read the tag and saw that it was SleepyTime tea.

 

She rarely went to Poe with her problems, always trusting in Finn, but in that moment where he knew exactly what she needed without her having to say, turning to him felt… right. 

 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, swinging his arm over the back of the couch and leaning back. He had grabbed a coffee for himself, clearly planning to stay up late to study.

 

She cut straight to the chase, not wanting to waste Poe’s time. “Kylo punched Luke.” At Poe’s raised brow, she added, “Not today. Kylo is Luke’s nephew, and back when I was in the hospital, Kylo told me that he used to be Luke’s apprentice, but Luke fired him. Today he admitted to me that when Luke fired him, he punched him.”

 

“Can’t say I’m exactly surprised that he punched someone. I’ve met the guy for five minutes and I could tell he was intense.”

 

“But… do I want to be with someone who punches his uncle? And he was quite angry when I asked about it.”

 

Poe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Let me put it this way for you, Rey. I’ve punched someone before. A few people, actually.” He snorted. “We’re guys, we do stupid shit like punch people when we’re angry. If he laid a hand on  _ you _ , that would be another story. And… I know family is different for you and Finn, but a lot of people don’t get along with their family for one reason or another. That’s why I think family isn’t who you’re related to by blood, but who you choose to have in your family. So sure, my parents are my family, but so is Finn and so are you.”

 

“But he shouted at me today, Poe. I don’t know how that sits with me.”

 

“Alright,” Poe leaned back again, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Why did Luke fire Kylo?”

 

“I don’t know, exactly. Kylo’s mentioned a few things, but they all seemed like things that wouldn’t get him fired, maybe just written up. Apparently he wasn’t good with customers and he was too emotional.”

 

“So he punched Luke to prove that he wasn’t too emotional,” Poe commented, deadpan, more to himself than to her. “Alright, let’s put ourselves in Kylo’s shoes for a second. He got fired by his  _ uncle _ , for what sounds like stupid reasons. He punched him, and is probably fucking embarrassed about that; I know because when I’ve done it, I’ve felt embarrassed, too. You came in and asked him about it, and I’m guessing he doesn’t want to talk about it, especially since you’re on Luke’s side. He shouldn’t have yelled at you, and he should really fucking work on that if he wants to be with you, but he’s not completely in the wrong here.”

 

Rey thought back to her conversation with Kylo. The way she had approached it, she had made herself sound on Luke’s side before even listening to Kylo’s, vouching for her trust in Luke over her trust in Kylo. She had brought her own biases into the conversation, even when she told herself she wouldn’t. And if she were being entirely honest with herself -- if she had a memory like that, wouldn’t she want to hide it? 

 

She covered her eyes and groaned. Poe’s warm hand appeared on her back, rubbing in circles. 

 

“Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do and I’m not going to tell you he’s right or anything, because he’s not. But nobody’s perfect, and from what I saw at the hospital, I think he’s too good of a guy and he cares about you too much for you to ditch him over this. Just trust your gut, that’s what Finn would say.”

 

“Thank you, Poe.” She leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

 

She hadn’t made any decisions, and she wouldn’t do so without a good night’s sleep. 

 

But she was becoming increasingly more certain that this wouldn’t be the end for her and Kylo. 

 

* * *

 

Kylo couldn’t sleep.

 

His mind was made up, and daylight couldn’t come soon enough. 

 

Finally he gave up, taking a long shower and an early morning walk around the neighborhood to keep himself busy. Every face that he passed, he saw Rey. 

 

Normally he drove his car everywhere, but eventually his feet carried him in the direction of Resistance Tattoos and he didn’t stop himself, just going on and on until his feet ached. Halfway there he stopped for coffee and a bagel, finding yesterday’s copy of the Times in the coffee shop so he could stare at the picture of him with Rey, over and over.

 

He would do whatever it took to gain her forgiveness. He would fall on his knees and beg, go to anger management, apologize to his uncle. Anything would be worth it.

 

Letting the past go didn’t have to mean forgetting it; it could mean accepting it for all of its flaws, and moving on. 

 

And if Rey had taught him anything -- he should be grateful to  _ have _ a family, as flawed and fucked up as they may be. 

 

Kylo took a latte to go and resumed his walk, losing himself amidst the crowds. It was mid-morning when he arrived at Resistance, his feet aching and his breath short from the cold; he was unsure if they would be open when he arrived, but the lights were on. He tried the door but it was locked, so he knocked.

 

“We’re closed.” He immediately recognized the voice as Luke’s. It was jarring hearing it after so many years, but he’d have to get used to it.

 

“Even for family?”

 

There was a silent pause, and he waited outside with baited breath that escaped his lips in wisps made visible from the cold. Just when he thought that Luke wasn’t going to open the door for him, he appeared. He looked like he belonged more on a beach in Miami than in the middle of Manhattan, wearing Birkenstocks, khaki shorts, and a poncho. His hair and beard had grown longer and greyer over the years, and he had pulled his hair back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, revealing the deep age lines at his forehead and along his nose. Heavy bags beset his bright eyes, made wide with surprise at the sight of his estranged nephew.

 

“Kylo?” 

 

He was surprised that Luke opted to use his newly adopted name. 

 

“Can I come in?” Kylo asked.

 

“Of course.”

 

Luke stepped aside for Kylo to enter the familiar shop. It was an odd sensation, coming in here to see Luke rather than avoid him.

 

“Are you here for Rey?” Luke asked, hovering in the doorway while Kylo leaned against the counter.

 

“I’m here to see you, but I’m doing it for her.”

 

Slowly, Luke nodded. He appeared stiff and uncomfortable, and Kylo wondered if Luke was afraid of him. He had a right to be, he supposed.

 

“Listen I…” Kylo sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have punched you. And then I shouldn’t have run away for years instead of apologizing, although I am grateful you never pressed charges. So here we are. I’m… sorry. I really am. For hitting you. But you know what, Luke?” Kylo met Luke with a fierce gaze, waiting until Luke’s wise but bright blue eyes rose from the ground to meet his. “You shouldn’t have fired me. I’m sorry for hitting you, but I’m not sorry for being angry with you. Why did you do it?”

 

“I --”

 

Kylo held his hand up to stop Luke. “Tell me the real reason, not the bullshit one. I didn’t come here to listen to bullshit.”

 

Luke audibly swallowed. “I’m not proud of it.”

 

“Well I’m not proud of punching you in the face.”

 

Luke paused, contemplation evident in his furrowed brow and drawn mouth. “When you were young, you would show me your drawings and I was so proud of you. You were a natural artist, you were destined for greatness.”

 

“I started it because of you. You don’t know how badly I wanted to  _ be _ you.” Kylo swallowed the lump in his throat; he wouldn’t cry, not now.

 

“Seeing that raw talent, I wanted nothing more than to take you on as an apprentice and see where you could go with it. I knew you could be great. Your father…” Luke smirked and shook his head softly. “He wanted you to go to business school or do anything other than art, really. Your mother liked it though, even if she didn’t show it. But you were so headstrong already that I knew you’d end up doing what you wanted, and it was tattooing.”

 

Luke paused there. These were all things Kylo knew already, and he didn’t know why Luke bothered rehashing them. Luke’s lips darted out to moisten his lips, and the air in the small shop felt dense and uncomfortable. “Kylo, most established artists with as many years of tattooing under their belt as I have don’t see their apprentices surpass their own skills in their lifetime, nevermind within months. I’m… deeply ashamed to admit it, but I grew jealous of your capabilities.” Tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes, gathering in the creases of his aging skin. “It’s true that you were too emotional and you were bad with customers at times as a result, but that’s not why I fired you. I fired you because you were a better artist than I ever could hope to be, and I couldn’t stand it.” The tears were falling down his cheeks in earnest, now. It made him appear smaller, somehow, more human than legend. “I regretted it immediately, but after you left, there was nothing I could do to get you back. I’m nothing but a petty and jealous old man, and I lost my nephew over it.”

 

Kylo’s anger deflated like a pinned balloon. Finally, after all these years he had an answer for a question he hadn’t entirely realized he had. Yet even so, he didn’t feel satisfied, or flattered. He felt a small amount of disappointment in the man he had so looked up to, mingled with pity as he watched his uncle cry in shame. 

 

“It was… a long time ago,” Kylo muttered, his gaze fixated on an intriguing floor tile. “We’ve both made our mistakes.”

 

“Can we move past this?” 

 

Kylo thought back to his childhood, before this mess. He remembered Luke sitting on his living room floor with him, surrounded by charcoal as he taught Kylo how to blend. He remembered being in Resistance as a child, watching Luke tattoo his father. He remembered sitting in the passenger seat of Luke’s old station wagon, his hand out the window following the wind, on their way to see a sculpture garden upstate. 

 

He also remembered the hurt he wore like a scar for years after Luke crushed him by firing him.

 

But that hurt had lead to his greatest success, being recruited by Snoke and joining First Order tattoo, becoming the successful artist that he was today. He would’ve preferred rising among the ranks at his uncle’s side, but it had all worked out in the end, hadn’t it?

 

“I’ll need time. But… I think so.”

 

Luke never held physical contact in high regard, so he wasn’t the type to go in for a hug, choosing to simply nod and smile at Kylo. It wasn’t a tearful reunion, but for them, it was a start.

 

Kylo said, “I just have one question. Why did you take on Rey?”

 

The faintest smile touched the corner of Luke’s lips. “She was the most talented artist I’ve seen since you, and I wouldn’t let myself make the same mistake again.”

 

At that moment, the lock stirred and the door opened, an exhausted-looking Rey entering the shop. Wide eyes darted between her teary-eyed boss and a harried-looking Kylo. 

 

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice high with worry. 

 

Kylo looked to Luke to answer her. He was surprised when Luke approached Rey, placing an affectionate hand on her shoulder. “You’re a special person to help two stubborn men see the error of their ways.” He squeezed her shoulder before stepping away to the back room, leaving Kylo and Rey alone.

 

He knew he likely fucked up what they had. He knew she might never forgive him. But he also knew he would have never forgiven himself if he hadn’t tried, and taking a step to repair the most broken relationship of many in his life… well, if nothing else, he had that.

 

“You came here? Looking for Luke?” she asked in hushed whispers.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I…” she turned away and flushed. Badly, he wanted to hold her, engulf her form in his arms. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, before she could continue. “I was an asshole. If you want to never see me again, I respect that. If you want to just go back to being client and artist, I respect that, too.” He took a step towards her. “But if you forgive me, there’s a great Korean barbeque place that I’d really like to take you to for dinner, and we can talk about this more.”

 

She let out a snort of a laugh; he took it as a good sign. “You were an asshole. But I shouldn’t have pushed this on you so much.”

 

“I think I needed you to. It made me reflect on it instead of just trying to forget about it. It pushed me to talk to Luke.” 

 

“He’s not so bad,” she said gently. 

 

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes suddenly felt heavy with the threat of tears, and he felt foolish as he blinked them away. 

 

“So I think… yes, let’s do dinner again, some time.” 

 

Rey stepped forward, then, and wrapped her small arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace. Her breath on his chest was hot through his t-shirt, and he ran his hands through her long hair, sighing and closing his eyes as he held onto the feel of her small form.

 

Never before had he appreciated a hug so much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this was a challenging chapter to write and I really hope I didn't fuck it up. 
> 
> I want to take a second and thank all of you for your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. I've been writing for a long time, but I've never had a story take off quite like this one. It's thrilling and I'm so excited to get to talk about it with all of you, but it's also scary hoping that I don't fuck it up (like I did with the earlier Kylux mention cough cough anyways). Your continued support is so incredible and I really can't thank all of you enough. 
> 
> I was listening to a lot of Death Cab for Cutie as I wrote this chapter, specifically the song The Ice is Getting Thinner. If you're interested at all in my stuff that I listen to when I write this, please lmk in the comments and I can post a link to my Force Skype playlist.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go. The chapter that I've been most excited and most nervous about.  
> This one is gonna be dirty, and after I post it, I'll be changing the rating accordingly. So CW for sexy stuff.  
> But it's also going to be very emotional, and I'm really hoping, more than any chapter, that I hit the mark with this one.
> 
> CW for this chapter:  
> Contains mention of previous self-harm and self-harm scars.

For Poe, life was good right now. Very good.

 

He survived his exams and graduated at the top of his class, which earned him a prompt hire from Virgin Airlines as a copilot on a local route: New York City to Pittsburgh, twice daily, Mondays to Fridays. He would be starting there in three weeks, after him and Finn got back from London.

 

Things with Finn were better than ever, better than he could have dreamed of. Finn was kind, loving, caring, dedicated, funny, and supportive. Throughout Poe’s exam period and the intensive studying beforehand, Finn had taken care of all of the house chores and cooking; even though Poe was a much better cook, he still appreciated Finn trying. Depending on Poe’s needs, he would make him coffee or SleepyTime tea, and when Poe needed to destress, Finn would fuck him into the mattress. Not to mention the fact that Finn supported him financially through school by paying the bills so Poe could spend his money on tuition.

 

Now that Poe no longer needed to spend all of his time working three jobs or studying non-stop for school, he could finally dedicate more of his time to Finn, a thought which had propelled him through many difficult times in the past few years. Finn made him happier than he had ever dreamed that he could be, and he planned on returning the favour for the rest of his life.

 

To celebrate Poe’s success in school, Finn had thrown a party for him on a Saturday in early December, and Poe was… a few drinks in. Definitely not drunk. 

 

“Rey! Kylo! You made it!” He ran to the door and enveloped the pair in a rib-crushing hug. 

 

Okay, maybe he was a  _ little  _ drunk.

 

“Of course we did,” Rey told him after extracting herself from his embrace. “Sorry we’re late, I had to finish a piece for --”

 

Poe waved her off. “I know, I know, you’re too busy being a wildly successful artist. Come on in! We have Cheetos!” 

 

They hung their coats up and Finn appeared from the kitchen, four beer bottles necks within his fingers. “Hey guys!” he passed them each a drink, and with his free hand he pulled Rey into a one-armed hug before shaking Kylo’s hand, muttering a “good to see you, man”. 

 

Poe had sent an invitation to Kylo through Rey as a matter of curiosity as much as anything, so he was thrilled when she had responded in the affirmative. But he still hadn’t spoken to Rey since the late night when she had come over, and he was desperate to get her alone to get the details on what was happening between them. 

 

“Finn,” he called. “Can you give Kylo a tour of the apartment? I need to talk to Rey in the… office.”

 

Finn arched a brow at him but nodded. Kylo, on the other hand, looked squeamish; he didn’t seem like the sort of guy who did well at parties, but it was a testament to how much he liked Rey for him to show up with her. 

 

While Finn gave the grand tour (“this is the bathroom, this is the bedroom, this is the kitchen, this is the living room”), Poe took Rey’s hand and lead her towards the room which she previously occupied, which had now been repurposed into an office. 

 

“Kylo accepted my invite,” he said, the moment the door shut behind him.

 

“He did.” Usually Rey’s style was a little drab for his liking, but today she wore red in the form of an shoulder-capped shirt-dress, tied around the waist with a black belt with long black stockings. She was wearing copper eyeshadow and it brought out the flecks of green in her eyes; it looked lovely.

 

“So… you worked things out?”

 

The corner of her lip rose into a half-smile and her gaze fell to the floor shyly. “We did.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I went to work the next morning, and he was there, talking to Luke. A few days afterwards, we met for lunch at his favourite Korean barbeque place and just… talked.” She laughed softly. “I’ve never heard him talk so much. We just ate and talked, about Luke and about Kylo’s life. I think it helped him to finally talk about it. They won’t be close again, I think, but it’s a step forward nonetheless.” 

 

“Wow.” Poe’s brows shot up. “Sounds like you’ve worked some magic, Rey.”

 

She shrugged. “It wasn’t my intention. But it worked out well in the end, didn’t it?”

 

Rey looked happy, comfortable. So many years of their friendship had seen her stressed and worried, so Poe was grateful for the man who had put that smile on her face. And the way Kylo looked at her… it was as if she was the only person in the room. Rey might not realize it, but Kylo was well on his way to falling for her, if Poe’s instincts were correct.

 

“So…” he leaned back onto the desk behind him, arms crossing on his chest, “have you two fucked yet?”

 

“Poe!” she looked abashed, but a smile still sparkled in her eyes. 

 

“What?” he drawled.

 

“No, we’ve… it’s only been a couple of dates, and I… I wasn’t ready.”

 

She became shy, so Poe didn’t push the matter. 

 

“Come on, let’s get out there. Your man doesn’t look like the type that does well in a party full of strangers.”

 

* * *

 

“So, that’s the apartment,” Finn said with a half-shrug before leading Kylo back into the living room. Their place was a little messy but otherwise very warm and welcoming, with mismatched decorations and a few paintings that he guessed had been done by Rey. “And this is… everyone.” He gestured to the group gathered in the living room, scattered on chairs, couches, and the floor. 

 

“This is our neighbor Rose --” Finn gestured to a dark-haired woman seated on the couch with a round, friendly face, who waved excitedly at Kylo, “-- and her sister Paige.” The woman on the floor at Rose’s feet bore similar features to her sister, but her face was oval-shaped and her wave was more subdued. “And these are Jess and Snap.” The last two were seated on chairs; Jess wore a bright, friendly smile and Snap gave him a curt nod. “Everyone, this is Kylo, Rey’s… friend.”

 

“I follow you on Instagram,” Jess said quickly, “I love your work.”

 

“Thank you,” Kylo said softly, following Finn’s lead and taking a seat on the couch. 

 

“And that black widow piece you did for Rey is amazing, she shows it off all the time.”

 

“Does she really?” Kylo asked, raising a brow. He had been nervous to accept Rey’s invitation to the party, only having met Finn and Poe and under less than ideal circumstances, but everyone seemed incredibly pleasant. He should have known that Rey would surround herself with good people. 

 

With Rey in tow, Poe emerged from the office, wearing a big and slightly sloppy smile. 

 

“Where did you two go?” Rose demanded.

 

“I needed Rey’s help with these big boys.” Poe whipped two large joints out of a tin container in his back pocket, and Kylo couldn’t help but smile: he was quickly feeling more and more at ease with this group.

 

Kylo dug into his pocket for his own container, flashing Poe his own smile as he said, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought friends for them.”

 

Poe laughed boisterously and shot a finger gun at Kylo. “I like this one,” he said to Rey with a crooked smile. 

 

Poe took his seat on Finn’s lap (Finn let out an ‘oof you’re getting heavy!’), and Kylo became acutely aware that there were no seats left for Rey. She, on the other hand, appeared unperturbed before she sat herself down on his lap. Her weight there was a comfort, like his lap had been waiting for her to sit on it for his whole life; he had to suppress a groan when she leaned back and whispered into his ear, “I hope this is ok.”

 

He was only able to swallow and nod.

 

Rey… had an effect on him like no one else ever had. Maintaining composure had rarely been an issue to him, but with her, he could barely form words when she did something as simple as sit on his lap. His throat suddenly became dry when he watched her take the joint from Finn, take a long drag, and blow out a few smoke rings.

 

They smoked until Kylo was pleasantly buzzed; Poe didn’t get the cheap shit. When she was high, Rey laughed even more than usual, and she slowly leaned more and more into him while Finn booted up an old N64 and a copy of Mario Kart so they could start a small tournament.

 

Quickly, Kylo learned that Rey was not a great gamer, and ended up off the track or over a cliff more often than she was on it. Kylo made it to the second round before he was beaten by Poe, Rose, and Jess, but he didn’t particularly mind. Truthfully, he preferred watching with Rey, feeling her heaviness on him when she leaned back onto his chest and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The final round was Poe, Paige, Snap, and Jess; Poe was fiercely competitive and ended up seated on the floor directly in front of the tv so he could get the best view for when he eventually took the win in a final breakneck dual with Paige. 

 

Kylo couldn’t remember laughing so hard in a while, as he watched Poe’s victory dance around the living room. It had been so long since he had been surrounded by a group of friends like this, feeling light and joyful from smoke and drink, and having a beautiful woman in his lap laughing with him made it that much better. 

 

“Finn! Make me a victory drink!” Poe demanded, arms in the air. 

 

Finn rolled his eyes but acquiesced with a smile. 

 

“We’re out of soda!” he called from the kitchen.

 

“Rey,” Poe said, “you were the worst driver, so you need to go to the corner store and get us soda.”

 

“I resent that,” she replied, but she still stood. Kylo’s lap felt empty without her. “I’ll go get your soda, though, because I like you. Want to come with, Kylo?”

 

He stood quickly. “Yeah, sure.”

 

They grabbed their coats and left the apartment; before the door had closed behind them, Kylo heard Rose’s voice drift through the cracked doorway, muttering, “I think I like him.”

 

“Your friends are nice,” Kylo said conversationally while in the elevator.

 

“I like to think so,” Rey replied with a crooked smile, before they stepped out of the elevator and out onto the streets. 

 

Snow cascaded down in heavy flakes; Rey tilted her head up and they fell on her nose and her warm cheeks. She smiled broadly before holding her tongue out, allowing them to fall and summarily disappear into her mouth’s pink depths. 

 

She found beauty in everything.

 

Grateful for the moment alone, Kylo stepped closer to her and took the back of her neck, tilting her head forward so he could place his lips on hers. She sighed softly into his mouth before parting her lips, allowing him to taste the chill on her tongue. He pulled her lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it softly before letting go to rest his forehead on hers. His skin burned with her warmth.

 

In his mind’s eye, he captured that moment. The dull glare of the streetlights and Rey beneath one, snow clinging to her every surface, touching the freckles of her cheeks and the ends of her long eyelashes. She laughed, then, and he adored the sound.

 

“We should go to my place.” Her voice was suddenly solemn, low.

 

“You… okay. Yes. I’d like that.” He paused. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

Taking Kylo’s hand, Rey dragged him to the nearby corner store to pick up Finn’s soda, dropped it off at his apartment with a quick “Kylo has to work in the morning, we’ll see you later!” and lead him into her apartment.

 

She flicked the lights on and dropped her keys in a bowl by the door. He had never been inside her place before. At first glance he thought it was a bit chaotic, but on closer inspection he found that she had little furnishings and many paintings, of various styles. 

 

“I’ve been… working on painting more,” she explained slightly sheepishly when she saw his attention to them. “Helps keep me sharp, trying new things.” She went into the kitchen and called back to him, “Can I get you a beer?”

 

“Sure.” Hands stuffed into his pockets, he slowly followed a line of her paintings. Many were abstract or watercolours, without the definitive lines distinctive of her neo-traditional tattoos. She had painted a few landscapes and heavily favoured warmer colours within them, preferring the reds and yellows of autumn. 

 

It was no surprise to him she was a talented painter, too.

 

A beer appeared at his elbow and he accepted it with a gracious smile. “I love your paintings.”

 

After putting on music -- classic rock, a comforting break from her usual ska -- she sat down on the couch and he followed suit, sipping his beer while she told him about the inspiration behind most of the paintings. Central Park was a common theme; she told him that without a car, it was hard for her to get out to more scenic landscapes. When she spoke of her art, she became lively, her passion coming out in rapid tones with wild hand gestures. 

 

“Rey?” he asked her, when they lapsed into silence. 

 

“Yes?’

 

“Can I kiss you?” 

 

“Please do.” 

 

He placed his beer down on her coffee table, wrapped one hand around the back of her head and the other around her mid-back, and pulled her in close to him so he could press his lips to hers. She tasted of beer and weed, but so did he. Her curious tongue dipped into his mouth, tasting him, exploring him; when she sucked on his lower lip, he nearly died. When she rolled herself on top of him, straddling him, and he ran his hands along the swell of her hips, he was fairly certain he actually died. The motion made her dress ride up, and he saw that the stockings she wore were so high that they disappeared beneath the hem.

 

When he was finally able to peel his gaze away from her thighs, his thumbs firmly planted into the apex of her hipbones, he looked up into her eyes. He had expected to see fire there, but instead he saw sadness.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, we can stop here, or --”

 

Truthfully, he didn’t want to. He wanted to roll her dress up and bury his tongue in her cunt. But he would never force her, ever. 

 

“No, I want to.” He felt a mixture of relief and confusion at her words. “It’s just…” She appeared flustered as she sighed and closed her eyes; he tried to be comforting by rubbing circles on her hips with his thumbs. 

 

Bolstering herself and opening her eyes, Rey said, “There’s something I need to show you.” As she spoke her gaze remained steadfast, but he spotted moisture in the corners of her eyes. 

 

“Whatever it is,” he assured her, “it’s not going to change how I feel about you.” 

 

The moisture turned into true tears at his words, cutting lines down her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered, nodding. “Okay.”

 

She brought her hips up, lifting the back of her thighs off of his legs, and rolled the bottom of her dress up until he could see the top of her stockings, pulled up so high he was afforded a glimpse of her black cotton panties. With trembling hands, she unrolled the top of her stockings, revealing bit-by-bit the soft skin of her thighs.

 

And then he saw them.

 

_ Scars.  _ Stark white and vivisected against her golden skin. The lines were clean but haphazard.

 

“Who did this?” he whispered, even though he knew the answer already.

 

“I did,” she responded in a raspy whisper.

 

Kylo wanted to do -- to say -- so many things. He wanted to ask her why. He wanted to apologize for the damage the world had done to her that made her want to hurt herself. He wanted to pretend his lips had healing powers and kiss the scars away. 

 

His hands trailed down her hips until his thumbs were hovering over them, and he asked her, “may I?”

 

Instead of speaking, she nodded. He rested his thumbs over her scars, feeling how they were elevated above the rest of her skin. There were no tattoos there, or anywhere on her thighs. 

 

He wanted to ask her -- so much. But everything that rose to his lips felt wrong. His gaze rose and caught hers, eyes swimming with tears, and he lifted his thumbs to tenderly brush them away from her cheeks. 

 

His throat was tight with emotion and his words were thick when he said, “You’re perfect.” 

 

“I’m broken,” she whispered.

 

“Not to me.” His hands moved from her cheeks to the sides of her head, holding her gently, like a doll. But she wasn’t fragile, he had to remind himself; she was strong and powerful, she had proven it to him time and time again. Even after everything she had been through, feeling so much pain that she had needed to physically inflict it on herself, she still found the joy in snow, and rain, and a hot meal, and watching fucking fish swimming by her. He was suddenly so grateful, grateful that she was  _ alive _ and  _ here _ , grateful that he could feel her warmth in his hands. 

 

Something… shifted within Kylo. A need to protect her, to hold her, to treasure her, to make her feel more pleasure than she had felt before in her life. 

 

She bent down, and he reached up, and their lips were meeting again, wet and salty from their shared tears. Within the kiss was more, so much more, not just desire and hunger but a desperation from them both to feel the life within each other while feeling alive themselves. Her small hands dug into his hair and he was filled with such a need to be inside of her, be fully encapsulated in her warmth, that he let out a groan of pleasure between her lips. 

 

“Do you still want me?” she whispered onto his lips, and he couldn’t recall being so heartbroken in so long, her voice was so tentative, small, and worried.

 

“So much,” he whispered back.

 

He brought his hands from her head down to the soft skin where her thighs met her ass, standing up and bringing her with him. She let out a cry of surprise as he carried her to the bedroom, peppering kisses along her bare neck. Everything in that moment, he wished he could live through again and again. Her tinkling laughter, the way she hooked her ankles together behind his back, the smell of weed and lavender on her skin. They reached her unmade bed and he gingerly placed her down, watching her as she smiled up at him through wide lashes. 

 

Softly she said, “I like you.”

 

“I’m not sure if you’ve figured it out yet, but I like you too.” She laughed again, a short and joyful sound, as Kylo crawled on top of her, covering her completely. She was just so  _ small _ , even though she never felt like it until he was this close to her; until he was so close he could count the freckles scattering her cheeks, see her mascara clumping, see that one slightly crooked tooth that only revealed itself during the broadest of smiles or the most raucous of laughs. Her hair fanned outwards along her bed, dipping between the peaks and valleys of her sheets. 

 

“I’m going to kiss you everywhere,” he told her, matter-of-factly. And he would, and he would take his time. They were in no rush.

 

“I’m okay with that,” she murmured, squirming beneath him.

 

He started with her cheeks. The tips of her ears, which made her laugh, and the lobes, which made her sigh. Her neck, which made her squirm and grab his back, and her collarbone, which made her groan. 

 

The dress she wore, as pretty as it was on her, the red contrasting spectacularly to the gold of her skin, had to go. He removed the belt, which splayed to her sides, and she sat up so he could lift it over her head. 

 

When she laid back down, he wondered when exactly he had died because the sight before him was something too beautiful for his living self to ever deserve. With her dress gone, she was down to a simple black cotton bra and panty set and her black stockings, rolled down to the tops of her knees. 

 

It was there, at her knees, that he resumed his kisses. On the tender insides, which made her giggle and breathe “that tickles!” and the hard kneecaps. He worked his mouth down, down her calves, unrolling her stockings on the way. Before he slipped the stockings off, he pressed kisses to the bony insides of her ankles, to the heel of her foot, to the soft arch, to the top of her big toes. Once one leg was bare, he repeated the pattern with the other. Her naked legs were beautiful, calves and feet dotted with tattoos. The scars on her thighs may have been ugly to some, but to Kylo, it was all part of the mosaic that Rey was composed of. 

 

He moved up, then. Kissing her long, slender arms; the tattoo that he had given her; her hands, that squeezed and held and created. Her chest, along the line of her bra, flushing with colour beneath his ministrations. Pulling the thin fabric of one cup down, down, he circled her pert pink nipple with his tongue before laving the tip, tasting her salt. His gaze flickered up and he saw that her eyes were closed, long lashes fanned against her red cheeks, lips parted for heavy breath. He switched to the other side, dexterous fingers pulling down the other cup, running his finger along the edge of her nipple until it grew hard beneath his touch.

 

He was hard already, straining against the zipper of his black khakis. 

 

But he would be patient.

 

This was for Rey.

 

His hot breath travelled down, down, trailing kisses along her taut stomach. He wondered if she was eating enough, with how hard she worked and how lean she was. 

 

He laid his teeth into her hipbones, hungry but gentle, following the bites with soothing laps from his tongue. 

 

Back down he travelled, hovering over her thighs. 

 

“Is this okay?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she whispered.

 

He pressed his lips to her scars, then. Gently, so gently, caressing the hills amidst her smooth skin. He paid attention to each and every line, chasing her pain away with his kisses. 

 

When he looked up, she was hot and flushed, across her cheeks and neck and chest. “Is this okay?” he asked, running the tips of his fingers along the top edge of her panties, and she nodded. She was wet; he could feel it as he ran his fingertip along the top of the fabric, stopping and sighing when he felt the moisture.

 

She was too much for him.

 

He could come from just this.

 

But he wouldn’t, he’d hold himself together so he could give her more, more.

 

Over the patch of wetness he placed his lips, darting his tongue out to taste her warm wetness, tasting it even through the cotton, and his head spun. With gentle fingers he pulled the panties down, and she lifted her hips to help him.

 

She was bare and beautiful, glistening pink folds between neatly trimmed dark hair.

 

He need to bury himself within her.

 

First he reached out his fingertip, exploring her cunt with wide eyes, sighing when he slipped inside of her and found she was  _ soaked _ . She sighed, too, when he slipped in, in, surrounded by her heat, before he leaned forward and tasted her uncovered. Oh, how she tasted so sweet, mingled cleanliness of skin and muskiness of sex, and when he watched her hands grip the sheets and her eyes close he was certain that this was heaven.

 

Slowly, he worked. His tongue was experimental at first, darting between her folds to find her clit and press against it and circle it. He kept his finger inside of her, didn’t move it until she began to move  _ him _ , grinding her clit against his mouth until he was covered in her juices. He needed to stop and breathe but he wouldn’t, couldn’t; he increased the pace instead, lapping at her cunt feverishly, drowning in her juices.

 

She began to groan, to mutter,  _ god  _ and  _ fuck _ and then  _ Kylo _ , and when she said his name he could tease her no more. He began to work his finger, in and out of her slickness, maintaining pressure on her clit in circles and lines with his tongue. It was so much, too much, as she muttered his name in a series of hoarse whispers before she  _ clenched _ around him, thighs gripping his ears and cunt squeezing his finger, he couldn’t breathe but he didn’t need to when he had  _ this _ .

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she whispered, sated and limp, as he crawled up her body to press kisses to her neck, her cheeks. She grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss, lapping the taste of herself off of his tongue, and  _ fuck _ if she wasn’t perfect when she did things like that. 

 

“Just give me a second,” she murmured when she broke their kiss, panting. Kylo made his way to the edge of the bed, trailing his finger along her sensitive skin and she shivered beneath his touch. He stood then, undoing the snaps of his button-down before sliding it off his shoulders. Rey rose onto her knees to approach him, unclasping her bra and slipping it off her shoulders before pressing her chest to his stomach, kissing the planes of his chest. While she kissed her hands wandered, along his shoulders and his sides, before finding his belt and pants to unbuckle and unzip. They slipped down his legs, pooling at the floor at his feet, and his cock ached as it sprang to attention from becoming uninhibited. 

 

He died again, he thought, when she kissed his cock through the cotton of his black boxer briefs. And he died once more, when she ran her tongue along the length. 

 

“Fuck me, Kylo,” she whispered, her breath hot on his cock through his shorts. She truly was a woman from his deepest fantasies.

 

She laid back down on the bed, splayed out, flush. He slid his shorts down, the room’s cold air touching his cock. It had seemed presumptuous to pack a condom in his wallet but he had done it anyways, so he retrieved it from his fallen pants and slid it on with fingers that trembled in anticipation.

 

No lover had made him lose his composure like that, except for Rey.

 

Like a lion approaching his prey -- or his lioness -- he went down and crawled towards her before he was hovering over her again, kissing her frantically until she grabbed his cock and guided him to her soaking cunt. 

 

With one slow thrust, he slipped inside. 

 

She was hot, and wet, and tight, and  _ oh god _ he was inside of her and it was making him delirious. Slowly, agonizingly, he slipped out and in again, soaking up her soft gasp and the way her hips drove upward.

 

He met her eyes, and he began to rock.

 

It was unsteady, uncoordinated, his fierce need to please her battling with his core that threatened to come undone already. She was just too perfect, all short gasps and fingernails digging into his back, certain to leave half-moon crescents in the morning. But he didn’t care, he wanted to remember her, remember this moment, until the day he died. The way she clenched around him with each thrust, the way her hips rocked in time with his, the way that she breathed his name, over and over.

 

_ Kylo _ .

 

He was unprepared when she threw him onto his back, never letting him slip out, before  _ she _ began to rock on top of him. He grasped her hips as he watched her breasts bounce, knowing  _ this _ was heaven,  _ this _ was wonder,  _ this  _ was so much too much he couldn’t hold back any longer. Hands firmly planted in her skin he held her in place as he thrust up, up into her, driving and panting, until his head spun and gooseflesh rose on his thighs and he was whispering her name and he was seeing sparks as he came, sputtered thrust after sputtered thrust, inside of her warm cunt.

 

All at once he groaned, and his head fell back, and he began to laugh. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He was echoing her words, and laughing more, and she was too before she stood and he slowly slipped out of her, feeling a pang of emptiness now that he was no longer inside of her. She returned with tissues and cleaned them both while he lay, boneless, trying his best not to rudely immediately fall asleep. 

 

He heard patters of her bare feet against linoleum. Running water. Splashes. Everything was a white-tinted haze. 

 

When she returned, she smelled of lotion and mint toothpaste. He should have stood, brushed his teeth, washed his face, but he could muster nothing. Not with her warm body crawling into the sheets beside him, not with her voice whispering “good night” in his ear. 

 

It could wait until the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to extend a HUGE thanks to JustAnotherSailorScout who made me an amazing MOOD BOARD FOR THIS FIC! Which I'll be posting in the next chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my Stormpilot-loving friends.

As Kylo began to drift into wakefulness, he became aware of a few things in succession.

 

The first was that something very hot and very wet -- if he had to hazard a guess, judging by the sucking sounds and presence of teeth, Rey’s mouth -- was wrapped around his cock. It was the most blissful feeling possible to wake up to, and the first noise of the day that he made was a throaty groan.

 

The second was that he smelled coffee. 

 

The third, which came to him when he opened his eyes, was that everything was crystal clear. The top of Rey’s head, the robin’s egg blue sheets pooled around his naked hips, the antique lamp beside her bed seated atop a birch night table, the clock which projected into the dim daylight “6:55”. 

 

The fourth, which came to him slower than he would like to admit, although he blamed it on the fact that he had just woken up and Rey was sucking his cock and  _ holy shit that felt fucking incredible _ , was that he had fallen asleep with his contacts in. 

 

“Rey.” His voice was hoarse, even for an early morning. 

 

“Hmm?” Her mouth was wrapped around him still, and the wordless query sent a vibration straight from his cock to his limbs, momentarily chasing away coherent thought.

 

“I need to take my contacts out.”

 

She pulled him out of her mouth with a pop, laughing immediately. His cock felt cold without the hot embrace of her mouth. 

 

“You wake up to this and  _ that’s _ your first thought?” she asked, still laughing.

 

“You’ve scrambled my brain,” he grumbled.

 

“Go take your fucking contacts out, and then get back here.”

 

Head light with pleasure, he sat up, leaning forward to kiss her. It started tame at first, but quickly became more urgent, and he tasted himself on her tongue. 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

“Go!” she laughed, and smacked his ass when he stood. 

 

He went into her bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. He had been completely unprepared to spend the night and had brought nothing with him, so he had to make do. It was painful when he peeled his contacts out, his eyes forming a layer of film over them, and he had to toss them and put on his glasses since Rey didn’t have any contact solution. He didn’t bring a toothbrush either and had no urge to use Rey’s, but he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and splashed his face with water. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, so he pulled it back into a bun and used damp hands to keep back the worst of the flyaways.

 

He was still stark naked, and very erect, but at least he was presentable. 

 

He went back into Rey’s bedroom, the smell of coffee growing stronger. She was an absolute vision in that moment: seated upright on her bed between tousled sheets, wearing his button-down with the first few buttons undone, a cup of coffee in one hand and a joint in the other, another steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table for him.

 

“You…” he growled before he fell forward onto the bed and crawled up to her laughing form, pressing rapid kisses to every bit of bare skin: up her legs, up her arms, along her neck. 

 

This was the definition of paradise.

 

* * *

 

Mugs empty and joint smoked, he kissed her again; it was languid and slow, and he tasted of weed and coffee, smokey, bitter, and sweet. 

 

Rey could have kissed Kylo forever. At times he was patient, but there was a fervid hunger which laid beneath. Their lovemaking the night before had been passionate and slow, but she had been afforded glimpses of the fire in his eyes, one which promised future sessions that were anything but sweet. 

 

She wanted all of it. The sides of him that were sweet, and the sides of him that weren’t. She wanted to try everything he wanted to try, and she wanted him to delve into her darkest desires. 

 

He reached to take his glasses off, but she grasped his hand, stopping him. At his quizzical gaze, she said, “I like your glasses. Keep them on.” 

 

“I…” he appeared surprised, but pleased. He slipped under the sheets beside her, pulling her back in close, pressing hot kisses to the back of her neck. Wide hand splayed on her hip, he pulled her shirt up and her panties down, teeth digging into her neck when he splayed her legs apart and found her wet already.

 

“You are…” his finger slipped inside of her and her back arched forward, “too much for me.” 

 

“Do you want to stop?” she asked in a teasing whisper.

 

“Never,” he whispered into her ear, running his tongue along the shell while his finger worked inside of her, curling towards himself. 

 

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

 

Voice thick and heady, he replied, “Yes.”

 

She reached for the box of condoms in her bedside table -- Finn had bought them for her too long ago, hoping she would find someone like Kylo sooner -- and passed one to Kylo, who slipped it on while staying on his side. Still on their sides, too tired to right themselves, she spread her legs and his cock slipped inside of her. 

 

One hand squeezing her hip and the other wrapped around the back of her neck, they both groaned as he bottomed out inside of her, stretching her deliciously. Holding her firmly in place, he began to rock slowly. It was patient and sleepy, and she focused on the separate sensations: the span of his hand on her neck, his fingers almost able to wrap around fully; his bare chest pressed against her back through his shirt that she still wore; their shared smell of sex and sweat and weed; and his cock, oh his cock, pressing into her over and over, her nerves more and more afire with each thrust. 

 

Just as she was getting close, the hand on her hip moved forward and his fingers found her clit, pressing slow circles there. Hungry and eager, she began to rock with him, forcing his hips to drive into her faster, and with a short gasp she was blinded by her orgasm, clenching tight her walls, her hands, her lungs, her eyes. With a whisper of her name,  _ Rey _ , he came shortly after, twitching into her back.

 

In blissful aftershock they laid in silence, his hand reaching up to palm her belly. She grasped that hand and wound her fingers between his. 

 

“Do you have to work today?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” he said with a sigh.

 

She sighed, briefly battling with the desire to call in sick and ask him to do the same so they could lounge around the apartment for the day, eating and smoking and fucking. But she knew that was neither wise nor professional.

 

Already, she felt so close to him. Already, she dreaded the thought of parting with him for the day. She had trusted him so deeply that she had shared one of her deepest secrets with him, and the wall between them had crumbled, leaving them bare before each other. 

 

“What time?”

 

“My first appointment is at two.”

 

Rey moved her hips forward so that he slid out of her and she turned to face him, wearing a smile. This close, under the gentle light that trickled through her window, she could count the freckles and moles that dotted his cheeks and could see the first lines of shadow from his early morning beard. He was smiling back at her crookedly. 

 

“So we have a few hours. Do you want to get bagels and then come back here and fuck again?”

 

Kylo reached up to cup her cheek with a warm hand, his smile growing. “How do you know me so well already?”

 

* * *

 

“I’m just going to run into the corner store, I’ll be right back.”

 

Under the torrents of rain, Poe ducked underneath the awning to the corner store, grateful for the reprieve from the wetness. His gaze flicked back outside to where Finn waited under the awning, completely prepared for the weather in a bright yellow raincoat. In his hand Finn held the leash for Beebee, his parents’ scraggly golden retriever, who was wearing a matching yellow raincoat.

 

How the hell did Finn spend a few years here and then want to come back?

 

It rained, constantly. Poe hadn’t seen the sun since they arrived here three days past. And since it was December, it was cold in addition to the rain. Everyone -- other than Finn’s parents, who had been warm and kind -- was unnecessarily rude to them as soon as they realized they were American. Worst of all, their peanut butter tasted odd and they served beans with every meal. 

 

But London was important to Finn, and Finn was important to Poe, so he smiled and followed his boyfriend as they hopped between tourist landmarks, a panting and joyful Beebee in tow.

 

Poe browsed through the shelves, looking for a chocolate bar to ease the hunger that came with hours of walking on cobblestone streets, when he saw a familiar box of candies. When he did, he was struck with an idea so wild and reckless and foolish that he  _ had  _ to do it.

 

“Ready to see the Tower Bridge?” Finn asked, when Poe emerged outside again.

 

Poe took Finn’s hand as he lead him through the streets, spewing off bits of London history. Poe tried to listen, truly, but his recent purchase was burning a hole in his jacket pocket.

 

By some miracle, by the time the bridge was in sight the rain had abated, and a few dashes of sun were appearing from between the clouds. Finn lead them to a railing that overlooked the River Thames, leaning on it with a soft smile.

 

“I’m really glad you came, Poe.” Finn reached out to take Poe’s hand, running his thumb along Poe’s. 

 

Their eyes met, and in his partner’s Poe saw so much love, more love than he ever thought he would receive in his life. Finn had been everything Poe had dreamed of in a partner, and so much more. Kind, caring, warm, funny,  _ sexy _ . 

 

Before his brain could chastise him for acting on his wild and half-cocked plan, while still holding Finn’s hand, Poe went down onto one knee.

 

“Finn.” His voice was already wavering. “I love you more than anything in the world, and you make me feel more loved than I ever dreamed of. You’re my best friend, you’re my lover, you’re my partner. I want to be at your side for the rest of my life.” From his pocket, Poe pulled out his purchase from the corner store: a Ring Pop, in cherry, Finn’s favourite flavour. While Poe spoke, Finn’s eyes widened and grew moist; Poe desperately hoped they were happy tears. “I know this is just a Ring Pop, but I want to buy you a proper ring when I can afford it. But for now, all I want to know is, will you marry me?”

 

Finn surprised Poe when he, too, went down on one knee, never letting go of Poe’s hand. He reached inside his raincoat to an inner pocket; from within, he pulled out a velvet box, popping it open to reveal a simple silver band. 

 

“You beat me to the punch,” Finn muttered thickly. 

 

They laughed together before their lips met, laughter spilling out between kisses, while Beebee barked joyfully in the background. 

 

It was the happiest day of Poe’s life. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HELLO  
> YES IT'S ME   
> I am still alive and I most definitely have *not* forgotten about this.  
> I just... had a bit of a crisis of where I wanted it to go. And that crisis went for 8 months, apparently. But I decided that the best thing to do for this fic was to take a bit of a time jump forward, so we could get into the final "section" of events. Everything else felt too much like drawing it out for the sake of length, and it simply didn't feel fitting.  
> So here we are. The last chapter occurred around November, and now we're moving into April of the following year.  
> If anyone is still reading this: thank you, so much, for your patience. Now that I've made this decision, I have a very good idea of where things will go from here, and updates will *not* take this long in the future.

As the sun began to filter in through her threadbare curtains, Kylo’s eyes fluttered open. He was lying on his side, wrapped protectively around her; his nose was filled with the clean smell of her hair, fanned around her face as she remained sleeping on her back, her palms resting open on her bare stomach. 

 

Not wanting to wake her yet, his eyes roamed across her beautiful face: the fan of her dark lashes resting against the top of her cheeks, delicately flushed pink; the gentle line of her nose, dusted with the freckles he had kissed countless times; her rose lips parted, her breath escaping slowly. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, the inhales rattling faintly.

 

Rey had been sick for three days now. It was the first time he had seen her sick, and he learned quickly that she was incredibly stubborn about it. At first she had insisted that she was fine and it was nothing, and when it became obvious that it  _ was _ more than nothing, she insisted it was allergies. Finally he had whittled her down into taking a few sick days, seeing as tattoos and germs didn’t mix particularly well. 

 

In the months since they had... was “gotten together” the best term for it? Using the term “girlfriend” made him feel like he was back in high school. In those months, he had learned so much about his Rey, and how her stubborn nature often reared its head. 

 

But she was so much more than that. She was infallibly kind and selfless, she was stronger than he could ever hope to be, she was patient, she was  _ funny _ . In everything she did, she inspired him -- and sometimes pushed him -- to be a better person. 

 

He and Luke were… not friendly yet, but cordial now. Cordial enough that Kylo had begun to come into the shop when Luke was there, who would watch as Rey continued his back piece. 

 

The woman of his dreams -- the woman who he had doubted, then hated, then admired, then cared for, and now was growing to reach something precariously close to love, even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself or her -- woke and rolled over to face him, her hazel eyes flaring in the early morning rays. 

 

“Good morning,” she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was a mess, and her nose was red, but she was still beautiful.

 

“Good morning,” he replied. He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand, and it was hot beneath his touch. She turned and pressed a dry kiss to his palm. 

 

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked gently. 

 

She smiled, and warmth stirred in his belly at the sight. “Please. And coffee.”

 

After pressing a soft kiss to her forehead he stood, pulling on fleece bottoms before treading barefoot into her kitchen, the tile cold beneath his feet.

 

He had an omelette on the pan and bacon in the oven when his phone rang in his pocket. Softly, he sighed; he had taken today off to take care of Rey, a decision which would doubtless end with consequences he was loath to face.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Kylo, buddy! How’s our girl Rey?”

 

He leaned back against the counter, crossed his ankles, and smiled. It was Poe. Yet another gift that Rey had provided for him: Poe’s friendship. 

 

It had begun when Finn and Poe flew back from London, and Rey asked Kylo to pick them up from the airport in his “bloody truck” since she had to work. Kylo had dropped the men off at their apartment, and when Finn went to bed to sleep off the jet lag, Poe asked Kylo if he wanted to keep him company since he had slept on the plane and was still wired from the trip. 

 

Four hours later, Rey had come to the apartment intending to welcome home Finn and Poe and congratulate them on their engagement; instead, she found Kylo and Poe stoned out of their minds, laughing so hard there were tears streaking from their eyes while they played Wii Bowling. 

 

After that… well, friendship was easy with Poe, like wearing your most comfortable pair of pants. Kylo was going to be one of Poe’s groomsmen. 

 

“She’s alright,” Kylo replied. “I’m making her breakfast. I’m staying here with her today.”

 

“Good man.” Kylo could hear Poe’s grin on the other side of the line. “You wanna grab pancakes on Thursday? There’s this --”

 

Poe’s sentence was cut off by the beep of Kylo’s call waiting. 

 

“Let’s talk later, Poe, I’ve got a call on the other line.” He touched to answer the other line before turning to flip Rey’s omelette. “Hello?”

 

“You sound awfully well for someone who called in sick.”

 

At the sound of Snoke’s voice, Kylo’s shoulders tensed and the morning’s calm slipped away through a sieve.

 

Matters between Snoke and Kylo had grown tense over recent months. Kylo had to stay true to his bookings but had been turning down some of his celebrity clientele so he could spend his free time with Rey instead. 

 

Snoke hadn’t taken well to that.

 

“Is there something you need?” he seethed. The blanket of peace and comfort brought into his life by Rey and Poe had been lifted immediately and he felt again like the man he had been a year ago: angry, tense, unfulfilled with life. Snoke had a way of bringing out that part of him again. 

 

“Just wanted to… check in, on my favourite artist. Wish you a speedy recovery.” His words were deceptively kind but his tone was ice cold. 

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kylo asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

 

“Come to my office tomorrow before going into the shop. If you’re  _ up _ to it.” 

 

The call ended with a click. 

 

Kylo sighed and leaned back, the back of his head resting against one of Rey’s kitchen cupboards.

 

Tattooing was his dream job, and he couldn’t fathom doing anything else with his life, but there were moments when he considered leaving First Order. 

 

There were many privileges he had been afforded working there. He had his own private room and access to the highest level clientele that New York City had to offer. He worked with a pair of artists who he respected deeply, and even if they both grated on him at times, their professional relationship was solid. 

 

But the price to pay for all of this was working with Snoke. At first it had been a more than fair payoff, as Snoke had given him the opportunity of a lifetime when he offered him a spot at First Order and let him operate relatively independently. But now that Kylo had begun to test how far he could take that independance, Snoke was trying to reel him back in. 

 

He snapped back to the present when the coffee maker dinged, and he realized that Rey’s omelette was cooked and about to burn. 

 

He pulled the bacon out of the oven and prepared her plate, pouring her a hearty cup of coffee in her largest mug. He added two croissants, toast with jam, and a glass of orange juice, bringing it to her in bed on a tray. 

 

The lights in the bedroom were on when he entered and Rey was already sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around her waist and her phone in her hands. 

 

“You aren’t working, are you?” he asked, placing the tray on her lap.

 

“Me? No. Never.” She lit up at the sight of food in front of her before diving in heartily. Kylo picked at one of the croissants and sipped at the orange juice while she ate.

 

“Who was that on the phone?” she asked in a slightly rough voice, once the plate was cleared. Her sick voice shouldn’t be sexy to him, but it was. Then again, everything that she did was sexy. It made it impossible for him to keep his hands off her. “Was it Snoke?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes.” He reached forward with his thumb to brush a bit of jam off the corner of her lips before licking it away. Before Rey, he had never been a person to thrive off of touch; but with her, he was different, adoring every opportunity that was afforded to him to touch her. 

 

The returning smile she gave him with every touch only added to that adoration.

 

The smile slipped away as she asked, “Is everything alright?”

 

He was with her; everything was  _ more _ than alright. He would pay for it tomorrow in Snoke’s office, but he would pay that price a thousand times over to have more days with her.

 

So quickly her hold on him had encapsulated him entirely. So quickly had she become more to him than his career, his money, his years-long grudge against his uncle.

 

“Everything is perfect,” he said before leaning in to press his lips to hers, reveling in their warmth. 

 

* * *

 

The restaurant boasting one of the best pancakes in the city reminded Kylo more of a bar. The dining area was tiny and cramped, and Kylo and Poe’s table was tucked tightly into a corner. A harried-looking server took their drink orders -- coffee with almond milk and sweetener for Kylo, a mimosa for Poe -- before hustling back into the kitchen.

 

“So I wanted to talk to you about something.” Poe began to assemble a tower of sugar packets as he spoke.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We… got a call from Finn’s dad the other day. He’s having some heart problems, and the doc won’t let him fly any time soon. Finn wants to move the wedding to London so his dad can be there. He…” Poe sighed, rubbing a sweetener packet between his fingertips. “He’s worried that his dad might not make it if we hold off too long. So he wants to push the wedding up, too.” 

 

The server dropped off their drinks and quickly took their orders before leaving. Kylo didn’t have much of a sweet tooth so he stuck to eggs benedict, but Poe went full sugar rush and ordered chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. “When?” Kylo asked, leaning in. 

 

“August.”

 

Kylo couldn’t restrain his quick inhale. It was April now, and organizing a wedding in four months was no easy task. But of a more pressing concern to him was getting the time off of work. Most of his clients booked a year in advance, so he would have already been booked up for that time slot; and if they were flying to London for the wedding, he’d need to take at least a week off. 

 

But now that he had a moment to reflect on it, he had an image. An image of Rey in an sushi restaurant, surrounded by paper lights, confessing to him that she had only ever been to London, NYC, and LA. He remembered in that moment that he wanted so badly to take her to all the places she hadn’t been yet; scuba diving with her off the coast of Spain, sipping coffees in a Parisian cafe, biking on the streets of Amsterdam, driving in a convertible along the Amalfi Coast. He wanted to give her the world, and he was being presented with the first steps.

 

He also thought of Snoke, the ugliness a stark contrast to the beauty of the life he was building with Rey. He hadn’t travelled for anything other than work in years, not that he had particularly cared to. Until he met Rey, he thought that he had spent his time travelling and seeing the world, but having someone to  _ show _ it to entirely renewed the desire. But regardless of his lack of vacation time over the years, Snoke would laugh in his face if he asked for time off. The tension between them had only grown since Kylo had taken a sick day earlier that week and the subsequent lecture Snoke had given him about time off. If Snoke was so bothered about one day, how would he feel about a week? Two weeks? Three?

 

“Listen, Kylo.” His gaze flickered upwards at Poe’s words. “Growing up in London wasn’t easy for Rey. From what Finn’s told me, she doesn’t have a lot of happy memories there. Finn’s nervous about moving the wedding there for her sake, but he has to do what’s best for his dad. So for her sake… see if you can go. Please.”

 

“Yeah,” Kylo sighed. Poe was right: Rey had opened up to Kylo about her unhappy childhood there, and he knew it held few happy memories for her. But it was Poe and Finn’s wedding, and they had to do what was right for them. 

 

“Finn’s gonna tell her today.”

 

“I’ll talk to her,” Kylo said softly, staring into his coffee. “But whatever happens… if she goes, I go.” 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mention of self-harm scars

“Are you sure about this?”

 

“For the tenth time, yes. I am.”

 

It wasn’t the first time that they found themselves here, at First Order, long after hours. The lights in the main room were off to ensure they weren’t bothered, and the music was calm and low. Even the sounds from the city that never slept were at a low; faintly in the distance, he could hear a horn honk and a dog bark, but compared to the usual chaos, it was positively peaceful. 

 

Above her leg he hovered, tattoo gun in gloved hand. Her thighs were a part of her body that he had gone over and over, with hand and tongue, and after tonight they would be… different. Not better, but different. She was perfect the way that she was, scars and all. 

 

But she had said to him that if they were to go to London, if she were to re-enter the city that held all the people that had broken her over the years, it was time to cover up the scars that showed how much it wounded her. 

 

She didn’t want to hide any longer, and it was because of  _ him _ , she said. 

 

It wasn’t truly because of him, he knew. He could kiss her scars and tell her how perfect she was, but it was she who had worked so hard, she who had brought success to herself, she who had seeked out her own happiness in the wake of numbness brought on by apathetic foster parents and birth parents who had abandoned her. 

 

“Ready?” he whispered, afraid to sever the tenuous moment before plunging ahead.

 

“Yes,” she whispered back.

 

So he began. He touched the needle to her skin and watched the ink splay out, marking her. It wasn’t the first time he tattooed her -- it was the third, now, an abstract portrait of a woman  keeping her spider “company” on her arm -- but this was different. 

 

In this moment, he was helping her move beyond her painful past, helping her move towards a brighter future. A future with  _ him _ . 

 

The piece was to be freehand, so he could work with the lines of her scars. He never worked freehand, but she insisted that she trusted him, and told him to tattoo whatever came to his mind.

 

So on her right leg he began to craft a sea landscape, to honour their night at the aquarium. A sea turtle and manta ray, dancing amongst coral and seaweeds, overtop a bright blue background. 

 

On the other, he planned to do birds, for his always free and unstoppable Rey. 

 

While he worked, he talked. “I’m going to talk to Snoke tomorrow. Ask for the time off.” 

 

Rey had already spoken to Luke; he had said yes, of course, however much time she wanted. She hadn’t taken any time off in recent years either, and worked 6-7 days a week as it was. She deserved it. 

 

Kylo hadn’t told her yet that he wanted to tour Europe with her. He needed to see how tomorrow played out with Snoke.

 

But for now, in the present, he had to help Rey conquer her past so she could have the future she wanted. 

 

“That’s good.” Her words were soft, but he could almost hear the furrow in her brows. She knew how tense matters were with Snoke but she didn’t push. 

 

For four hours he worked, rarely stopping. They were both so familiar with the process that breaks weren’t necessary. 

 

When he pulled away, finally turning the gun off, his heart swelled with pride. It was one of his best works yet, and it looked beautiful on the expanse of her pale skin. 

 

“Do you want to see?” he asked, before she finally sat up with a groan. It was 2am now and their long-ago purchased coffees were ice cold, but he took a sip of his anyways. 

 

Rey hoisted herself up and approached the floor-length mirror. He snapped his gloves off and tossed them in the trash before stepping up behind her. She turned her leg on the spot to look at the tattoo from all angles, but she was quiet; he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head, trying to quiet his heart that pounded with worry. 

 

“Do you like it?” he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. She smelled like coconuts today, her new shampoo. 

 

When he opened his eyes and met hers in the mirror, he saw that she was crying. His heart stopped, thinking that she hated it, that he had done something wrong. But her hands reached down to cover his and she held on, tight, so tight, like she would never let go of him. 

 

As he would never let go of her. 

 

“They’re gone.” Her voice was pitched so low, he could barely hear it. Slowly and softly, respecting the tender skin, she ran her fingertips over her old scars, feeling how they were still raised. Kylo could cover them up as well as he could, but they would never truly be gone. 

 

“You’re perfect,” he breathed into her hair, “with scars or with tattoos. You’re perfect, every iteration of you.” 

 

Quickly she spun, her arms finding his waist, squeezing the air out of him so hard that he let out a huff of a laugh. 

 

“Thank you,” she breathed, her voice hoarse, “so much.”

 

He rested his cheek atop her head, the corner of his lip lifting in a soft smile. “Anything for you.”

 

Her next words were muffled by her mouth being pressed into his shirt, and they were words he had so longed to hear that he wondered at first if he was imagining them. “I love you,” she said, for the first time, and his heart surged forward like it was magnetically pulled towards her before it hammered, loud, in his chest. 

 

Against all odds -- against his prickly nature, the way he treated her when they first met, his grudge against her teacher --  _ she  _ loved  _ him _ . He was undeserving, he was unworthy, but she did anyways. 

 

And he knew that he loved her too. Even when she called him on his shit -- no,  _ especially _ when she called him on his shit. Even when they were lying in bed and she pressed the ice cold soles of her feet to the back of his thighs, laughing. Even when he found out she kept using his toothbrush when she was staying over at his house. Even when she told him she had never seen  _ The Godfather _ , and then when they watched it together, she didn’t like it. He loved every single part of her, the good and the bad, so much that it made his heart ache. 

 

“I love you too,” he said to her, blaming the thickness in his voice on the fact that his face was buried in her hair, and most definitely not because he was crying. 

 

He squeezed her even tighter, his love.

 

His Rey.

 

* * *

 

Snoke’s office was, unsurprisingly, in a skyrise. He owned the corporation that operated out of the skyrise; First Order was just a pet project for him, something to spend his vast fortune on. 

 

The dark building, more glass than concrete, rose high above Kylo, nearly hiding amongst the clouds. He let out a small sigh, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and stepped inside. 

 

The floors of the reception area were made of dark glass, too, reflecting the soles of his boots back up at him with each step. He gave the receptionist a cursory nod before entering the nearest elevator, passing burly security guards dressed in red who eyed him warily. A tap of his keycard took him up to the top floor.

 

The elevator opened up directly to Snoke’s office, which filled the entire floor. For reasons that Kylo was certain were related entirely to intimidation and not to aesthetics, Snoke had painted three of his walls bright red. The other wall, the one that his desk sat in front of, was entirely composed of windows that looked upon the just-waking city. Kylo himself had barely slept the night before, at the shop with Rey until 2am. They spent the night at his place rather than making the trek all the way to Jersey, and she was sleeping when restlessness and anxiety woke him. 

 

It was early, yes, but he knew Snoke would be already be here, and he was right. As far as Kylo knew, he had no family, no friends. He lived for money. 

 

It was why everyone hated him, and why he was so damned successful.

 

The man himself sat behind his black desk, in a chair so large and ornate it was almost a throne. He wore a well-tailored black suit, some brand so fashionable that it couldn’t be found in stores. The beauty of his clothing made up for the ugliness of his face, pale, bald, and disfigured. Rumours said that he had been burned beyond recognition when he was visiting one of his factories in China, one where he employed severely underpaid and overworked employees, and the factory set on fire with him in it. 

 

If the rumours were true, Kylo had a hard time pitying him for that.

 

“Ah, Kylo Ren.” Wearing a knowing sneer, as if he had been expecting him, Snoke looked up from his paperwork. His voice echoed in the walls of the unnecessarily large room. “I wasn’t aware that you had ever seen 8am before.” He pushed his paperwork to the side and gestured for Kylo to come forward. “Would you like coffee? Tea?” 

 

“Coffee, almond milk and sweetener.” Kylo sunk into the leather chaise in front of Snoke, the space between them still a great maw due to the sheer size of the desk. 

 

Snoke buzzed his assistant on his intercom, requesting Kylo’s drink and a tea for himself in a purr. He tented his long, pale fingers and rested his chin on them, fixing his gaze on Kylo. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning call?”

 

Kylo had mulled long and hard over how to handle his request, before realizing that wording it as a request was certain to result in denial. He had to be forceful if he wanted to get anywhere with Snoke.

 

“I’m going to be taking off three weeks in August, to attend a wedding in London and then travel Europe with Rey.” 

 

The silence that followed was deafening. They were so high up, not even the sounds of the city could reach them.

 

It was broken by Snoke’s assistant entering the room, carrying a tray with their drinks. The poor girl was wearing a skirt so tight and heels so high that she could barely walk. She placed the drinks on the desk before them, and Snoke waited until the door closed behind her with a click before he addressed Kylo again.

 

“Three weeks.” Snoke stroked his chin, as if in thought, before he continued. “That’s simply not possible.”

 

“Why not?” Kylo seethed through his teeth. In spite of his rising anger, Snoke remained calm and began to mix sugar into his tea. “I’ve worked myself to the bone for you for years, I only take time off to do guest spots, it’s in four months --”

 

Snoke’s closed fist came down on his desk, a sound so loud that Kylo stopped in shock. “I said it’s  _ not possible _ . I’m well aware that you’re fully booked for the month, and we cannot put such a black mark on the shop so you can run off on a Euro tryst.” 

 

“Do you not realize how in demand I am?” Kylo snapped. “If I have to I’ll work overtime to bring all those clients in either before or after I leave, but it doesn’t fucking matter.” He had to take a deep breath to keep his blood from boiling. “I can reschedule all of them in next year and they’ll all still come in. They know it’s worth the wait for the quality of my work. But I am  _ not _ asking for too much by asking for time off for the first time in years.”

 

“So what will the shop do?” Snoke snapped back. “Lose a third of its income for the month? Lose some of its most dedicated clients? We’d shut down!”

 

“Bullshit!” Kylo stood, the chair skittering along the floor behind him. “You’re so rich you could run the shop without me -- no, you could run it without anyone -- for years! You just want to tie me down.”

 

“I will not let this shop fall to shambles because you’re too occupied with impressing your new whore.”

 

The blood drained from Kylo’s face.

 

Snoke had gone too far. 

 

Adrenaline surged through him, and all at once he wanted to do so many things. 

 

Mostly, he wanted to punch Snoke right in his smug face, and the thought made his hands ball into fists. But the moment he thought of that, he thought of Rey, and Luke, and that steadied his hand quickly.

 

His next thought was to tell Snoke to go fuck himself. Which would be satisfying, but unproductive.

 

Ultimately, he settled on what he knew, deep down, was the purpose behind this whole trip here. 

 

He managed to keep his voice even and low when he said, “I quit.” The moment he said the words, his palms relaxed out of fists. Snoke’s mouth began to slowly fall open, like a vaguely surprised fish. “I’ll go to the shop now to clear out my things. Good luck finding another artist.”

 

With that, he turned on his heel and left. 

 

He was smiling when he stepped out onto the street again, feeling lighter than he had in as long as he could remember. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No updates for 8 months, and then 3 in 2 days?  
> Welcome to my writing brain, friends.   
> (Although with the weekend upcoming you likely won't hear from me till Monday at earliest, and I have a feeling the next chapter is going to be a long one).

Exhausted, Rey finally reached the door to her apartment. To prepare for her time off she had started moving up her August clients, and she had stayed late that day to get a sleeve session done early. As a result, her hand was cramped, her eyes were tired, and her back ached. 

 

She fumbled with her keys when she put them into the lock, and was shocked when she entered her tiny home. The lights were on, heavy metal that was far from her taste was playing, and the smell of delicious cooking was wafting over from her kitchen. 

 

She toed her Chucks off and took a few steps in to find Kylo humming jovially at her stove.

 

“Hello.” Her tone was laced with surprise; he was supposed to still be at work, staying late to work on a piece for a celebrity who she was fairly certain was The Rock. Yet here he was, cooking her a late dinner. She wasn’t complaining, but she was curious.

 

At the sound of her voice, he turned to shoot her a crooked grin that still made her heart palpate in her chest. When they had first met he barely smiled, but now it was rare to  _ not _ find him smiling. 

 

“Hi, love,” he said softly, reaching forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. He found the stereo remote and turned the music down to a whisper. “I’m making chicken piccata. How was your day?”

 

“Fine, busy,” she replied, putting down her bag and removing her coat. “Yours? I thought you were working late today.”

 

In a shockingly joyful tone, Kylo said, “I quit today.”

 

Rey’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?” 

 

After flipping the chicken, he turned to lean back against the counter, a joint appearing between his first and second fingers that he passed to her along with a lighter. 

 

“I asked Snoke for time off for the wedding, and he said no, so I quit.”

 

As he moved, alternating between tending to the chicken and sharing the joint with her, he looked… lighter. Like a great burden that neither of them had realized he had been carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. 

 

While he cooked and smoked, he told her the story of going into Snoke’s office, his refusal of the time off, and Kylo’s exhaustion with the continual disrespect and lack of appreciation he received. And while he spoke, he smiled. 

 

When it came to matters of his career and finances, Rey trusted him entirely. He was one of the most talented and successful young tattoo artists out there, after all, so he wasn’t exactly hurting for money. And once word of him leaving First Order got out, he would undoubtedly get a slew of job offers. 

 

Besides, if it made him this happy, this carefree? The change was well worth it.

 

“Hux and Phasma nearly had heart attacks when I came into First Order and started cleaning up my things,” he told her, laughing, while they stood in the kitchen and dove into their meals. “I don’t think either of them thought I had it in me, but…” his gaze flickered up to meet hers. “I know I did the right thing, Rey. I just know.”

 

“I trust you,” she assured him. 

 

Without another word, he put his half-eaten plate on the counter, and she did, too. With only a small step he was in her space, towering over her, his broad shoulders filling her vision. His large hands -- hands that crafted beautiful art, that cooked her meals, that held her, that loved her -- covered her cheeks and his lips were on hers, kissing her so forcefully it took her breath away.  

 

He was hungry for her; she could feel it in how tight he held her between his palms, the way his lips moulded to hers, the press of his body against hers. 

 

And, God, she wanted him, too. 

 

She wrapped one leg around his hip, pulling him flush against her, and he laughed into her mouth. Deft fingers travelled under the hem of her skirt and along her hamstring before gripping tight onto her ass. She leaned back onto the counter behind her, and his other hand reached down to hoist her ass up onto the counter, pulling her skirt fully up so he could stand between her legs. While his lips roamed along her neck, her throat, her collarbone, his hands found purchase on her hips, holding her, grounding her; her parted lips let out a soft gasp of pleasure.

 

He found the bottom of her loose-fitting tank top and pulled it up, up, over her head, so he could kiss beyond her collarbone; the hollow between her breasts, the flat planes of her stomach, her hipbones. He kneeled, then, praying at her alter, pulling her panties down so she was wearing only her skirt around her waist. 

 

(It was because of him that she wore this skirt today, one she had never worn before. It was short enough to show off what had once been scars but was now art, and she had bought it long ago, waiting until she was strong enough to wear it, and today was that day.)

 

He kissed the insides of her thighs, avoiding the tender skin on the top of her thighs that he had marked yesterday, lifting her legs up so he could rest the insides of her knees on his shoulders. 

 

Reverently, she whispered his name; gently, he pressed the flat of his tongue to her core. 

 

In spite of the fact that they were so hurried that they couldn’t bother leaving the kitchen, he took his time with her. In slow circles his tongue circled her clit, while his curious fingers gently traced lines along her thighs and her ass before finally, finally slipping into her core.

 

He kissed along her thigh, whispering into her skin, “You taste so  _ fucking _ good,” before he dove back in with renewed fervor, tongue tracing vigorous circles while he curled his finger inside of her. 

 

Kylo was open about his love for eating her out, and he was damn good at it. They had begun to learn each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own, and he knew just where to touch and lick her, knew how to curl his finger  _ just _ so, knew when her thighs began to tremble that she was  _ close _ and ah, she was, she could feel the heat radiating in her hips, and when a soft moan spilled out of her lips he worked his tongue faster, sucking and licking the bundle of nerves until she exploded from her toes her fingers her feet her  _ core _ . 

 

With a sigh she leaned back onto her elbows, tossing her head back, laughing faintly. He rained kisses along her thighs, her calves, the arches of her feet, her stomach, her chest, her collarbone, each kiss electric on her over-sensitive skin. When he reached eye level with her she surged forward to press her lips against his, tongue darting out to taste herself on his tongue, hand reaching forward to cup his neck and curl her fingertips into his silky hair. 

 

“I love you,” she whispered, lips moving against his lips, adoring the sound of those words meant only for him falling from her lips. She heard the clink of a belt buckle and the thud of his pants dropping against the kitchen tile; when she felt the gentle press of his cock against her entrance, she became fire. Too eager to wait a moment longer, she pushed her hips towards him, letting out a contented sigh when he met her with a thrust and filled her.

 

Strong and sturdy he grasped her, one hand on her lower back and another on her hip, holding her to him, whispering her name, “ _ Rey _ ”, in a heavy voice that she felt in her center. 

 

And he rocked.

 

He held her with steady hands while her hands flittered along his body, sliding beneath the t-shirt he still wore to lay flat against the smooth planes of his stomach, his chest, his back. His skin was  _ soft _ but his body was hard, and, oh god, he was  _ hers _ .

 

In and out he rocked, slow and careful at first but quickly growing erratic and eager. A flush began at his ears, the ears she loved so fucking much, moving down his cheeks to his neck. His breathing grew shaky as he locked eyes with hers, deep brown meeting her soft hazel, before he kissed her so feverishly that their teeth clacked together. Into her he pumped harder, harder, until he groaned her name and spilled into her with one last hard thrust, face pushed into her neck, breath coming in rapid gasps. 

 

After a shared moment filled with no noise but heavy breathing, they both began to laugh.

 

“I’m sorry about the piccata,” she whispered into one ear, running the tip of her finger along the shell of the other, a touch she knew he loved; and they both laughed harder then, so hard he had to pull out of her before they made the kitchen into an even bigger mess. 

 

If quitting made Kylo  _ this _ happy, Rey was damn grateful for it.

 

* * *

 

Rey took her foot off her pedal and rolled back, surveying the final product before putting her gun away and beginning to clean up.

 

“You’re all set, if you want to take pictures before I wrap it up.”

 

The client stepped away to the mirror, pulling their phone out to snap a few pictures of the new fox tattoo on their calf while wearing a big smile. Rey cleaned up her station, bandaged up the customer, and cashed them out.

 

“Last one for three weeks.” She turned to Luke, smiling somewhat wistfully; the shop was empty now, other than the two of them. She was incredibly excited to fly to Europe with Kylo the next day, but a part of her would miss tattooing while she was gone. 

 

The day after Kylo quit First Order, he had received a rush of phone calls from shops offering him a job. He had told her that he wasn’t ready to fully commit to a shop, not yet, so had done a few month-long guest spots instead. As expected his clients followed him, and it made it easier for him to take the three weeks off for their trip.

 

Their trip was fully planned out. They would fly into Heathrow, spending two days in London before the wedding on Saturday. Sunday they would spend in London as well, doubtless needing to rest after the wedding. 

 

From there they would part from Poe and Finn, who would be spending their honeymoon in Greece, to take a train to Amsterdam, where they would stay for 3 days. They would then rent a car to drive to Paris, spending two days there before they drove southeast, spending the night in Switzerland before venturing into Italy. They would pass through Milan, Florence, and Rome, before driving the Amalfi Coast. They would then drive back into Naples to fly into Reykjavik, spending three days in Iceland before they flew home. 

 

The whole tour would take them just over three weeks. It would be the longest Rey was away from NYC since moving there, and it would be the first true vacation of her life. And she got to spend that vacation at Kylo’s side. 

 

She couldn’t believe they were doing this; the whole trip felt wild and distant to her, even though they were leaving the next day. 

 

When Kylo had first proposed to her the idea of touring Europe, the day after he quit First Order, her first reaction had almost been to say no. She quickly realized that reaction was borne of a fear of exploration, simply because she had never done it before. He didn’t push her -- he never pushed her -- but he let her sit on the idea. A day of envisioning them exploring a part of the world with him that she had never seen, and she was sold. 

 

And now… it was here. Their flight left at 9am the next day and she hadn’t started packing yet, but that was just her way. She would pack in a frenzy tonight and forget something important like her toothbrush or underwear, but Kylo would somehow have thought to pack two toothbrushes. 

 

She wasn’t even dreading seeing London again, because she would be seeing it with Kylo. 

 

Dreaming of a patio in Paris and taking mushrooms in Amsterdam, Rey began to clean her station, humming softly to herself. 

 

Luke’s approach was marked by the smell of sage and the clomp of his Birkenstocks. For once, it was hot enough for it to be appropriate for him to wear them. “You all packed, kid?” 

 

She smiled up at him. “You know I’m not.” 

 

Looking up at Luke -- the man who had taught her so much about tattooing -- she thought about how much she’d miss him when she was gone. She’d miss the mischievous sparkle in his eyes, she’d miss the smell of sage from him smudging the shop every morning, she’d miss the roll of steel drums on the speakers that marked him starting yet another Bob Marley album. 

 

He lowered himself into her chair with a creaky sigh while she cleaned up her ink pots. 

 

Luke said, “I wanted to talk to you about something before you go.”

 

Raising a brow, she turned to survey him. Was this about Kylo? Luke had never been overly enthused about their relationship, but had held himself from expressing clear displeasure. “What’s up?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about this for…” he let out a thoughtful ‘hmm’, “a very long time. I’m 55 now Rey, and I’ve been doing this for 37 years. My entire working life. I’ve been lucky to do a job I love, work with great people and great clients. But I’m getting old. I can feel it in my bones. I worked 7 days a week till you came around, and now I still work 6. But because of that work, I’ve saved up enough that I can retire.”

 

Luke? Retire? She knew he was getting older, but some part of her -- a part that now felt slightly foolish -- had imagined that he would do this job forever. He had the sort of steady presence where she couldn’t imagine him being anywhere  _ but _ at Resistance. 

 

That was all illogical, of course. It was a shop that he owned and ran, but it wasn’t his entire life. He had other facets to his life, even if they were facets she wasn’t privy to. 

 

Luke’s gaze turned out the front window, towards the evening that had begun to settle in, washing the streets with purples and deep blues. A skateboarder rolled by, wheels clacking on the sidewalk, and a runner passed in the opposite direction, being towed by their dog. 

 

Part of Rey couldn’t imagine Luke anywhere but here; another part of her imagined him somewhere much more peaceful, surrounded by trees and water and birdsong. Or perhaps he didn’t need to chase peace, instead bringing it wherever he went.

 

“While you’re gone, Rey, I want you to think about what you would do if I retired now. You could stay here, if you want; I’d sell you the shop below market value. Or you could go your own way. It’s up to you. Just… think about it.”

 

Softly she said, “Okay.” Her and Luke weren’t emotional with each other, even though they had worked side-by-side for almost five years now, but she couldn’t help herself when she added, “I’d miss you, if you retired.”

 

“I’d miss you too, kid.” Kicking his legs beneath himself he stood, giving her a pat on the shoulder before he headed into his back office. 

 

“Think about it,” he repeated, “and have a good trip.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to make this one chapter, but it seemed to split well into two, so... here we go!
> 
> Apparently sexy and then sweet is the theme again (sorrynotsorry).

Kylo hated flying.

 

He hated going through airport security and having to take his shoes off. He hated meandering around the airport for two hours, killing time while he waited for his flight. He hated that they don’t feed you anymore, even on a long haul flight to London. He hated the sterile smell of planes that never quite covered the residual smells of vomit and cramped toilets. He hated the fact that he seemed to always be seated near a crying baby.

 

But most of all, he hated cramming his 6’4” frame into a criminally small seat. 

 

Financially he was comfortable, but taking on less clients and paying for the lion’s share of this trip -- at his insistence -- didn’t leave him with enough room to afford First Class for their flights, so they were stuck in economy class like sardines. The only reprise was that their seats ended up being a lone pair beside the window, since the plane was large enough to be 8 seats wide with a 4-seat middle section. 

 

So while they flew, he paced up and down the aisles. It drove the flight crew mad, he was sure, and Rey watched him with a furrowed brow. But if he sat in one of those damn seats for more than an hour his ass fell asleep, his legs cramped up, and his back began to seize up, an unpleasant reminder of his impending mid-thirties. 

 

Two hours into the flight, the attendants began to turn the lights off to prep passengers for the time adjustment, since they would be landing in the morning on London time. But Kylo felt anything but tired. 

 

Rey -- his patient saint -- held his hand from her window seat, running her thumb over the back of his hand while his knee bounced up-and-down impatiently. 

 

Five hours to go. Fuck.

 

Squeezing his palm, Rey whispered in his ear, “Are you nervous? Do you want to watch a movie, or take a Dramamine to help you sleep?”

 

The corner of his lips rose into a smile. “Not nervous, just uncomfortable. I don’t fit well into planes.” He gestured to his knees, bent at an acute angle and pressed firmly into the back of the seat in front of him. 

 

“Come here,” she said softly, lifting the armrest and pulling his legs over to invade her space. After a bit of maneuvering, they ended with the armrest down, her cross-legged and him with his legs extended beneath the seat in front of her, entirely invading her space. Rey didn’t seem to mind, though; she insisted that having her legs tucked beneath her was comfortable. She threw the blanket he packed over their legs and put her laptop on the tray so they could watch an episode of Game of Thrones together with one earbud each. 

 

He ordered drinks for them -- rye & Coke for him, cranberry & vodka for her -- and, with his left hand on her right thigh beneath the blanket, he was almost growing comfortable.

 

So comfortable that his inhibitions began to slip. 

 

Kylo began to trace circles on Rey’s thigh, covered by thin leggings, a sensation which made her shiver and caused her lips to part. His curious fingers moved up, up, from her knee to the apex of her thighs, and even in the darkness he could see the faint flush in her cheeks beneath her freckles. 

 

He was damn grateful for the blanket, for the other passengers sleeping, for the dim lighting, and for the absent flight attendants as his fingers made their way along the elastic of her leggings before slipping inside. Rey didn’t stop him, but she did let out a barely restrained gasp when he grazed along the wetness that had soaked through her panties. 

 

Pulling out her earbud, he murmured into her ear, “Oh you are  _ wet _ , aren’t you?” Her throat bobbed and she nodded. “Is it because we could get caught?” Wearing a smirk, he ran the tip of his finger along the lacey elastic of her panties; she exhaled in a moan. “You  _ are _ dirty.” Those fingers trailed down, down, until he was rewarded with the feel of her cunt, bare and soaking wet for him. 

 

God, he loved her.

 

“You’re  _ soaked _ ,” he whispered, voice thick, before he slipped a finger inside of her. She closed her eyes and took in a shuttering inhale. 

 

He was grateful that the blanket was covering him, too, so it could hide how hard he was.

 

Into her wet pussy he worked his deft fingers; while he did he watched her intently, admiring the flush that crept down her neck, the rapid pulse at her throat, her half-lidded eyes, her attempts to maintain a calm facade while he fingered her in public. When his palm ground over her clit an audible gasp escaped her throat, and he shushed her with a devilish smile. 

 

Her breathing grew more rapid as he worked faster, grinding the heel of his palm into her, desperate to watch her release. He received his reward quickly when she closed her eyes, arched her back, and let out a stifled sound that could have been his name.

 

With dark eyes she watched him as he pulled his fingers out of her and away from the blanket before pressing them into his mouth; her pupils were blown as he tasted her sweetness on his fingers. 

 

Then, like nothing happened, he pressed a kiss to her ear before slipping the earbud back in so they could resume their show.

 

Maybe, Kylo thought to himself, flying wasn’t so bad after all.

 

* * *

 

Over the nine months since they had gotten together, Kylo had seen Rey in every state. He had seen her in ugly Harry Potter shorts and a loose-fitting Less Than Jake concert t-shirt, and he had seen her in beautiful sweater dresses and long flowing skirts. She looked beautiful regardless of what she was wearing, what her hair looked like, whether she was wearing makeup or not.

 

But when he saw her dressed up at Finn and Poe’s wedding for the first time, passing through the sliding glass doors of Finn’s parents’ home into their garden, he couldn’t help his heart stopping completely. 

 

The dress she wore was simple, knee-length and silky with a lace overlay that capped on the shoulders, in a lovely shade of rose that brought out the colour in her cheeks. Her shoes were patent leather, black and heeled with a strap across the front. She turned away from him momentarily when someone inside called her name, and he saw that the back was open, cinched at the neck and hips, affording him a tantalizing view of her painted cream skin. Her hair was parted at the center and pulled back into a low knot, with a few curled strands let loose to frame her face. Her eye makeup was simply a sharp line of dark eyeliner, and long lashes, and her lips were painted in a wine colour that showcased her smile.

 

When she saw him, she paused, eyes wide, before a grin spread across her cheeks, bringing out her dimples. Appearing surprisingly comfortable in heels, she strode towards him before taking his hands in hers.

 

She was positively breathtaking.

 

“Hello,” she said softly. It had been hours since they had been parted so she could get ready with Finn, and he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders being near her again. 

 

All the words he wanted to say became jumbled in his throat, but he managed to mutter, “You look lovely.” It didn’t entirely encapsulate just how beautiful she was, but it would have to do for now. 

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she responded lightly. It was hot and humid, so he shed his jacket in favour of a lighter pinstripe vest that matched his pants over a black tie and button-down. 

 

Feeling like a very lucky man, he offered her his elbow, and she slid her arm through the crook. “Ready to watch our idiot friends get married?” she asked, shooting him a sideways smile.

 

“Ready.”

 

Arm-in-arm they walked up the aisle, lined by white flowers and a few white benches that were filled by close family and friends, towards the floral arch, where they parted at the top to take their respective sides.

 

And Kylo had a vision, one of Rey walking up the aisle again, but this time in a white dress. 

 

Of her becoming his, forever.

 

* * *

 

She had never danced with Kylo before today.

 

He… wasn’t the best dancer, if she was being entirely honest. A little off-rhythm and a little stiff, although he loosened up after a few drinks.

 

They still laughed heartily while they danced together to bad 80s wedding songs, and she reveled in the feel of being pressed against his warm body through his pressed button-down when they slow danced.

 

And fuck if he didn’t look handsome dressed up. Black suited him, making him appear more tall and imposing than he already did, even when it was paired with the broad and crooked smile that he reserved for only her. His hair was down, artfully waved and covering his ears. Kylo and Poe had gone in for hot towel shaves that morning, so his cheeks were incredibly soft and he smelled faintly of aftershave. 

 

Beside them, Poe and Finn danced recklessly, kicking and waving and laughing so hard their eyes were watering. Finn’s suit was grey and Poe’s was white, and together they made a damn attractive couple. 

 

“Do you want some fresh air?” Kylo asked her gently, squeezing her hand.

 

“We’re outside already,” she replied slyly; they were on the dance floor in Finn’s parents’ garden, the dinner tables pushed aside. Kylo rolled his eyes at her before leading her away by the hand, weaving through dancing couples to find a quiet spot in a gazebo tucked away in the corner. Here the music dimmed, a soft glow emanating from a string of tiny white lights that ran along the top.

 

Kylo sat on a wrought iron bench in the gazebo, pulling Rey onto his lap. They looked down on the wedding party; due to the location change it was a small group that had assembled, only very close friends and family. Rey saw Finn’s parents, his father in a wheelchair and his mother clasping her husband’s hands while her hips swayed to the music; she saw Rose and Paige jumping and laughing, arms in the air; she saw Jess and Snap making dramatic, sweeping movements across the dance floor. 

 

She felt Kylo’s lips press into her hair, and she smiled. 

 

“Do you… want this, one day?”

 

His words, muttered into her hair, were soft and unsure.

 

“Do I want what?” she teased him, smirking.

 

“This,” he repeated. “A wedding. Marriage.”

 

Rey paused. Truthfully, it wasn’t a future she had considered for herself before. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the idea, it was just that she had been so occupied with advancing her career that dating, marriage, kids, it had all felt like something she would worry about later. 

 

That was until she met Kylo. And that was before she saw him today, looking absolutely dashing in that well-fitted black suit, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have  _ him _ waiting for her at the end of the aisle. 

 

Her thoughts turned to what Luke told her before she left. She had been so busy helping Finn and Poe with the last of the planning that she had barely taken the time to think about it, but it was suddenly in the forefront of her thoughts again. 

 

Where would she be in six months, a year? Would she be able to plan a wedding, or would she be too busy buying and running Resistance? Would she move on to another shop? Would Kylo come with her?

 

She had told him about it, the night before they left; he had only told her that he wanted her to make a decision for herself, and he would support her regardless of what that decision was.

 

Although she appreciated his unending support, it didn’t make the decision-making process any easier. 

 

“I…” she paused. “I think so. It’s just hard to think about that, when I’m thinking about what to do with my job.”

 

He nodded softly, and she buried her face into his neck.

 

She didn’t know if she truly wanted to buy Resistance, or if it was an option that only seemed enticing in its ease. Sure, she had built her career there and learned everything she knew there, but part of her wanted something new. She had the portfolio and the following now, and the world was open to her. Did she need to restrict herself to the only shop she had ever known? Or would she be foolish to push this opportunity aside out of flightiness? Besides, was she even ready to run a shop? She had only just turned 24, and owning and running a business while maintaining her clientele was a daunting thought.

 

As Kylo wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight into him, she knew that regardless of what her decision was, he would be at her side, and that made the thought a little easier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to J for your help with dress inspiration, Rey's dress is a mish-mash of [this style](https://www.renttherunway.com/shop/designers/rachel_zoe/black_suzette_dress) and [this colour](https://www.halston.com/cape-sleeve-pleated-dress).
> 
> ALSO one MILLION thanks to justanothersailorscout who made this stunning [MOOD BOARD](https://imgur.com/a/gVBfksn)! Still can't believe I'm lucky enough to have someone make me one <3


	28. Chapter 28

Rey woke at 5am and couldn’t fall back asleep.

 

It could’ve been that the time change was still affecting her, even though they were nearing the end of their vacation. It could’ve been that they had finally reached the destination that she had been most looking forward to. Or it could’ve been that she fell asleep at 8:30 the night before out of sheer exhaustion, barely having the energy to look at the Airbnb Kylo had booked for them. 

 

But now, after giving up on her attempts to fall back asleep and padding barefoot out of bed, she took the time to survey it in the sunrise’s half-light. It was a large cabin near the border of  Reykjanesfólkvangur; it was large enough for two families, but Kylo reserved the full space for just the two of them. It was two floors and constructed like a log cabin, with broad windows that looked upon the mountains, their peaks illuminated by the first touches of day’s light. The bedroom they had chosen was upstairs, so she threw on an oversized sweater -- Iceland’s early mornings were brisk, even in August -- and plodded down the stairs, trying to remain quiet so Kylo could sleep. 

 

Once downstairs, she put on a pot of coffee and snuggled into a wooden chair with cream-coloured padding, watching the sun rise over the mountains through one of the oversized windows.

 

It was paradise.

 

For an hour, steaming mug of coffee in hand, she simply… watched. Watched the mountains wake, listened to the birds titter, smelled the freshness of the new morning. It was the opposite of the rush of the city, and it brought to her a sense of serenity that she had never felt before. For so long she had been caught up in surviving childhood, establishing her dream career, falling in love -- she had entirely forgotten to step back and survey the beauty of the world around her.

 

She wanted to paint, badly, but she had no supplies. Instead she worked to commit it to memory, so she could recreate it when they were back home.

 

Home.

 

She loved home, and she missed many parts of it, but she was far from ready to go back. They had experienced so much of the world she hadn’t known had existed, and it had enchanted her. Now they were in the most beautiful place she had ever seen, and they hadn’t even begun exploration yet. She worried she wouldn’t be able to will herself to leave, to go back to reality and chaos. 

 

Finally standing and stretching muscles made sore from adventure, she grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, topped up her coffee, and sat back down again with her legs curled underneath her so she could flick through the photos from their trip so far.

 

London. A city she once condemned, too filled with memories of a tortured childhood. But now she had seen it through Kylo’s eyes, and some of her fear and her hatred had dissipated. The day after the wedding when they had done some travelling around the city they had carefully avoided the areas she remembered most strongly, sticking to the tourist areas instead. Still, she had taken few pictures in London; she had one of Kylo standing in front of graffiti on Brick Lane, looking dashing in a black v-neck and close-fitted black jeans, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his expression amused. There was also a shot of him at one of the stands at the Brick Lane market, carefully comparing two apples. The last shot was him in front of the Royal Palace, mimicking the pose of one of the Royal guards. 

 

Next was Amsterdam; till Iceland, it had been her favourite destination so far, and it was a refreshing change from London. A large number of the photos were either very bad or very blurry, since she and Kylo had largely partaken in Amsterdam’s… culture of drinking and drugs. Most of the photos that turned out were taken during the day of the beautiful buildings that dotted the water, like little dollhouses. They had visited a few museums there as well, and more than a few breweries.   

 

They drove to Paris after that, arriving later than they would’ve liked as they slept off a hangover. As a result, they had arrived at night, and her first photos were of the glittering Louvre and Eiffel Tower in the moonlight. They spent most of the next day in the Louvre itself, even though it was so large not even a day was enough. She had no photos of the famed Mona Lisa, as photos were prohibited in her room. Rey remembered that she had been smaller than she had expected, and if she was being frank, a little underwhelming. The Venus de Milo, though, had been captivating, and Kylo had to drag her away and remind her there were countless other exhibits for her to see. The following day, they went to the Eiffel Tower; it was too crowded considering the time of year, so they opted instead to look upon it from the Park Champ de Mars while they ate sandwiches on still-warm baguettes. One of the photos was of Kylo laughing with his mouth full of bread, the Eiffel Tower yawning behind him. They had explored the Catacombs that day as well, tucking into corners away from tourists to kiss with reckless abandon. 

 

Most of the following day was spent driving, passing through the Wildlife Park on the way to Geneva. They had a photo together in front of the flags of the Palais des Nations, and a few others at the waterside Botanical Gardens. The photos couldn’t capture the rich smell of the gardens, earthy and fresh. 

 

Once arriving in Italy, many of her photos were of their food. It had been her favourite part of Italy. It had rained when they had been in Milan, so they had visited a few of their art galleries, the Museo Discesano and the Mudec. Florence had provided better weather so she took many photos of the architecture, and of Kylo passing through the streets, like a black sheep amongst boisterous locals. In Rome they fully accepted their status as tourists, snapping a dozen photos of each other in front of the Pantheon and the Colosseum. 

 

After Rome, Kylo traded their practical Renault rental for a convertible Alfa Romeo -- Rey didn’t understand his excitement, but she did enjoy the winding drive along the Amalfi Coast, her hair whipping in the wind while they had the top down. The photos from that day made her grin; Kylo had been so happy, wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses and laughing loudly while they flew around sharp corners, her heart racing at their proximity to the deadly cliffs edges. They had packed a picnic that they ate at one of the stops, the mountains rising on one side and the cliffs falling on the other. 

 

Just as she flicked to the few photos they had taken in Naples before their flight out, a shadow covered her and she looked up to find Kylo smiling down at her, wearing nothing but a loose-fitting pair of plaid pyjama pants. His hair was tousled and his voice gravelly with sleep when he said, “Good morning.”

 

“Good morning to you, too.” He bent down to cover her lips with his; he still tasted of sleep, but she didn’t care. She would take those bad-breathed kisses a hundred times over, for after this trip, she loved him even more. Through the whole trip he had been by her side: calming her down when she had a near panic attack when they first arrived in London, sorting out their train tickets when they missed the first train to Amsterdam, explaining in very broken French to the restaurant in Paris that she couldn’t have peanuts. Through the best and worst parts of the trip, he had been there for her, the most loving and understanding man she had ever known.

 

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked, shuffling into the kitchen.

 

“Please.”

 

Sunlight filling the kitchen, dancing off his hair and lighting up his eyes when he looked up to smile at her, he prepared eggs, bacon, and toast. They’d gotten another rental car at the airport in Reykjavik, and after ensuring she was settled in the night before, he had gone out to the store to grab a few supplies, and she had fallen asleep while he had been gone. 

 

After eating and cleaning up, they made love feverishly in the shower, dressed, and jumped in the car to begin exploring. 

 

* * *

 

Kylo was getting worried.

 

He had woken that morning to find Rey looking nothing short of perfect, wearing only a white sweater large enough that it left one of her shoulders bare, curled up in a chair while she smiled at her phone, coffee in hand. She had been joyful and talkative all morning while they ate together, cleaned up together, showered and had sex together.

 

But now they were in the car, driving along the 42 through Reykjanesfólkvangur past Kleifarvatn towards the Krisuvikurberg Cliffs, and she had become quiet and contemplative, her gaze fixed out the window. 

 

Finally they arrived at the Cliffs, Kylo’s favourite place in Iceland. He parked the car and glanced towards Rey to find her looking out the window, her jaw dropped. Carefully she exited the car, not looking behind her as she closed the door, as she took a few steps closer to the cliffs. 

 

Each step she took was slow and deliberate, and he gave her space as she walked, wordless, taking everything in. They had gotten lucky and it was sunny and warm that day, so the sun’s rays touched the sharp blue waters below them, and a faint breeze danced through the grass atop the sharp cliffs. 

 

When she turned to look at him, he was shocked to find her eyes glassy with tears. Words of concern bubbled up in his throat, but before he could express them, she spoke, her voice heavy.

 

“I’ve never seen so much green in the whole world.”

 

Relief washed over him; they were tears of awe, then. He couldn’t blame her; it was emotional being here, so surrounded by beauty. From what he had seen, it was one of the most beautiful places in the whole world. To either side stretched the cliffs unending, covered in a layer of bright green moss and grass, and before them was nothing but ocean for endless miles. 

 

Slowly she sank down until she was sitting cross-legged near the edge. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, allowing the smells of stinging salt and clean grass to fill her nostrils. 

 

He took a seat beside her, grabbing her hand and holding on tight.

 

Together they sat, doing nothing but admiring the perfect view that surrounded them. 

 

As they did, Kylo realized that he never wanted to leave. 

 

Iceland was miserably cold in the winter and had too many tourists in the summer, but there was a -- a serenity, a calmness, a sense of connection to the world around them that he felt here more than anywhere else. He loved the frosted mountain peaks, the low lakes, the hot springs, and the ponies, hardy and shaggy.

 

Every time he came here, he never wanted to leave, so enraptured by its beauty was he. But he’d always gone back to New York, beautiful in its own way but busy, wild, relentless. 

 

“I never want to leave,” Rey whispered, face in the breeze, wearing a reverent smile. “I’ve been sad knowing that we have to.”

 

“What if we don’t?”

 

The question rose of its own accord, and she laughed softly at it.

 

But he knew, in that moment as he watched the breeze play with her hair and the grass dance beneath her, that he was serious.

 

In a heartbeat he would live here, and he would do it with her. And for once in their life, neither of them was tied down.

 

“I’m serious.” He rolled onto his knees and turned to her. She opened her eyes and gazed at him, surprise written on her features. “I’m done with First Order, Luke is retiring. We don’t have to be tied to New York. We could live  _ here _ . We could open up our own shop here.”

 

For a few moments Rey stared at him, slack-jawed, comprehending that he was serious about his completely wild and reckless plan. But that was the effect that Rey had on him: her uninhibited joy made him want to be reckless, made him want to have more out of life than working at a shop he didn’t care about.

 

They could build a life together, living somewhere as beautiful as this, living for  _ themselves _ . Not Luke, not Snoke, just them.

 

“This is crazy,” she whispered before trailing off into laughter.

 

“It is.”

 

She turned to him, clasping his cheeks in her chilly palms, her eyes bright and lively.

 

“It’s completely crazy,” she continued, “and reckless, and I don’t know this place at all, and I’d be leaving behind my best friends.”

 

He nodded slowly, forcing a soft smile through the disappointment. She was right, of course; it  _ was _ mad, and he could  _ never _ force her to leave her life and her friends behind. They would visit often, though; he would ensure that.

 

“But…” she paused. “Even with all of that, I still want to do it.”

 

Swiftly he rose to his feet, his eyes wide and a grin taking over his features. “Are you sure?”

 

“No,” she responded, standing with him. “Not at all.” She laughed. “But I can feel it. It feels right, here. Like I’m  _ meant _ to be here. Meant to be here with  _ you _ .”

 

He pulled her into a bone-crushing hug; he laughed into her hair while she laughed into his chest.

 

“We’ll think about it, the few days we’re here,” he said, a plan forming in his head. “If we still like it, we’ll come back for a few weeks, maybe in the winter. If, after that, we still want to… want to live here… we’ll make it happen.”

 

“Okay,” she said, still laughing.

 

“I love you,” he muttered, his voice carrying along the breeze.

 

“I love you,” she responded, squeezing him tighter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little bit of a love affair with Iceland, okay?? Just... don't ask me to pronounce any of those words.
> 
> So the only one of these places that I've actually been to is Paris, so I apologize if I missed the mark with any of them. Google and pictures only does so much.
> 
> We're really closing in on the end here. I have loved writing this so much, and it's made more enjoyable because of all of you (and because of my beloved friend J, who is the best muse ever and who helped me come up with the photo idea for this chapter because I wasn't sure how to best portray their travels). So thank you for sticking with me, and reading, and commenting, and all that other good good stuff.


	29. Chapter 29

“A little to the left!”

 

“How’s this?”

 

“Your other left.”

 

Poe grumbled, moving to the other side of the archway to shift it over in the other direction. “Is that better?”

 

“Now we’re back where we started.”

 

Poe stepped back, fists on his hips. “You know, I wasn’t this much of a pain in the ass when you were helping with  _ my _ wedding.”

 

“Yeah you were.” Kylo smirked. “And for the record? Wearing a Canada Goose jacket in July is not fashionable, even if we do live in Iceland.”

 

“It’s cold!” Poe muttered with a laugh, shuffling back to adjust the archway again. 

 

“It’s 60 degrees, Poe.”

 

“It’s 90 degrees in New York today!” 

 

Kylo rolled his eyes and laughed faintly. Poe complained, but he and Finn were here for Rey and Kylo, helping them as much as they could, and that was what mattered. 

 

He looked over to Finn, who was gazing over the cliffs with a similar amount of awe to what Rey expressed the first time he had brought her here, and he quietly wondered to himself if soon they wouldn’t be the only ones living in Iceland. Poe’s position as a pilot and Finn’s as a graphic designer afforded them the flexibility to relocate, if they chose. And Kylo knew that leaving the two of them had been the hardest part of leaving New York, for Rey.

 

But other than missing their dear friends, life in Iceland had been as wonderful as they had imagined. They had firmly made the decision when they had returned in January and saw the Northern Lights for the first time, lying on their backs in the darkness on a thin layer of snow. It turned out that the “ice” part of Iceland was a bit of an exaggeration, and although the days were woefully short in the winter, it tended to actually be warmer than New York in the more southern part of the country that they had chosen. 

 

It had taken over a year of planning and paperwork, as well as two return trips to find a shop before they could complete the move. But they had lived here together for six months now, and they loved every moment of it.

 

For the time being they were renting a cottage outside of the city because Rey wanted to be closer to the mountains. The shop itself was in central Reykjavik, in the second level above a bakery that overlooked the Tjörnin. It was a little higher rent than they had originally budgeted out, but the combination of the view, the smell of fresh bread from downstairs, and the beautiful brick architecture drew them in so fully they knew they had to have it. 

 

The day after they saw the Northern Lights, Kylo proposed.

 

It wasn’t an overly grand event; they had gone out on a pair of Icelandic horses to a hot spring, and while their horses grazed they soaked in the hot water, steam furling in the air at the base of the ice-capped mountains. Right in that water, he proposed. Being a spur-of-the-moment decision he didn’t have a ring at the time, but they had chosen a jade ring together once they returned to New York. 

 

And now they were here, today, on the Krisuvikurberg Cliffs, only moments away from getting married. Kylo’s dream from two years ago -- Rey, in her white dress, walking up the aisle towards him -- was about to come true.

 

Everyone was beginning to filter in for the ceremony. Their group of friends and family wasn’t extensive so it would be small gathering, but still… everyone. Poe and Finn, of course; Paige, Jess, Snap; Hux and Phasma, who was trying to hide her growing belly in an empire-waist dress. Luke was here too, having emerged from his remote cottage in Ireland. 

 

Even his parents, with whom he felt so disconnected it was as if they lived in another world entirely, were here. They had met Rey for the first time at the rehearsal dinner the night before and they had loved her, of course. How could they not? 

 

The archway and seating were set; white flower petals lined the aisle, matching the white flowers that were weaved into the archway; the officiant was waiting, black book in hand; the attendees were seated already or were milling around, talking softly. The breeze was gentle and the sun was beaming down on them through a thin layer of clouds.

 

It was almost perfect; the only thing missing was his bride.

 

He thought he’d be nervous, have pre-wedding jitters like everyone had told him he would. But nerves were the farthest thing from his mind, because he couldn’t remember being so sure of anything in his life.

 

Into the parking lot a black car pulled up. Rose stepped out first, wearing a flowing lavender dress. 

 

Kylo took his place by the officiant, hands clasped in front of him.

 

Rose opened the back door, and Rey stepped out of the car. 

 

So many moments in his life felt burned into his memories. His mother slamming the door in his father’s face when he was a child; his fist connecting with Luke’s jaw; the first tattoo he had done that he was truly proud of; Rey under the lights of the aquarium; pressing his lips to hers for the first time; her at these cliffs, her hair whipping in the wind; the way the Northern Lights lit up her hazel eyes when she turned to smile at him.

 

All of those moments that had defined him in his lifetime washed away, for this was the only moment that seemed to matter.

 

Her in a simple ivory dress with capped sleeves, the sheer fabric well-fitted but floating around her, a crown of the same flowers that surrounded the archway behind him perched on her delicate waves. Her lashes were long, her cheeks were tinted pink, and she wore a beautiful and bold dark lip. 

 

His heart surged with more love than he had known it was capable of.

 

As she made her way up the aisle towards him, her gaze was fixed downwards; when she was near to him, it flickered up towards him, and her lips lifted into a wide smile.

 

He began to cry.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, and he was so overwhelmed by love that it pushed away the shame he felt at crying in front of everyone he knew. 

 

“Hello,” she said to him in a low voice. Other than the officiant, they were alone here. Rey had chosen to forgo the tradition of being “given away”, wanting to walk up the aisle herself, and they decided against having a wedding party. So when she smiled up at him, he felt like they were the only two people there. 

 

His throat felt heavy, but he managed to mutter, “I love you.”

 

Reaching forward, he grasped her hands within his, and the ceremony began.

 

It was a bit of a blur from there; he barely registered the officiant’s words, entirely focused on his beautiful bride before him. There was nothing there but her; there was nothing in the world but her. 

 

Everything slipped back into focus when he said “I do”, and heard her say the same. He watched her eyelids slide closed as her mouth approached his, and he kissed her eagerly. 

 

As they kissed, his thoughts flickered through every moment they had shared in the three years since they had met. Through her laughing and rolling when he tickled her in bed; through the feeling of her fingertips in his hair when she massaged shampoo into his scalp; through playing Mario Kart with her on Finn and Poe’s couch, watching as she careened off the edge of Rainbow Road over and over; through holding her hand as they ice skated in Central Park, him confident and her faltering; through glancing over in  _ their _ shop to watch her tattoo a client while wearing an easy smile; through her reaching over to put his book down when he was reading in bed, touching his glasses before kissing him firmly. Through all the small moments they had shared already, and in anticipation of the countless ones they had to come in this life they had just promised to share together. 

 

He couldn’t believe that he, the arrogant man who had turned her away the first time, the bitter man who had almost avoided her because of an old grudge, had earned this. 

 

To the cheers of their loved ones, while the smiled and laughed, they walked down the aisle together, towards the rest of their lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's over.
> 
> This fic was such a ride, and I loved writing these two so much. Even though it's over, they'll always hold a very special place in my heart. 
> 
> Thank you, all of you, for reading and commenting and supporting this. I've never had a fic receive so much feedback, and it was a lot of pressure at times but your constant encouragement helped me immensely.
> 
> And one MILLION BILLION thanks to J who listens to my headcanons and encourages me every step of the way.


End file.
